On Top Of The World
by intextrovert
Summary: AU Brittana. Sam, Quinn and Brittany work for a travel company at a resort in the french alps. A foggy day on the slopes Brittany helps a struggling snowboarder who later invites her out for a drink. They connect instantly, but what will happen when Santana has to go back home?
1. Prologue and On A Mountain

**Author's Note:  
**

**So.. this is my first (real) attempt at writing fanfiction. We'll see how it goes.  
The story is completely AU, I wanted to make a ski resort-centered fic and since I'm european I felt that it has to take place in Europe. I don't know any NA ski resorts well enough to write about them. The resort in the story is a fictional version of Val Thorens, France. The ski system is unaltered but I will not use actual names of bars & hotels. It's fiction after all.  
**

**I have no idea how long this will be, I have a few chapters written but the story already alters between two seasons so it might end up being looong.  
First few chapters will be from Brittanys POV.  
**

**I do not own Glee, any of the characters or something like that. But I do own a lot of ski gear.  
**

**Prologue:**

**[November 23:rd, 2011]**

_It felt like I'd never left. Within hours everything would be back to normal. My third of the closet a complete mess above Quinn's perfectly organized part. Sam's poster of Sean Pettit still blu-tacked onto the bathroom door as the pale november light sifted through the dirty window. The christmas lights we'd stolen off a tree outside the church one heavily inebriated night were hanging around the mirror between the bunk beds and a stack of last winter's piste maps laid forgotten in the bookshelf.  
Hadn't it been for the stale air not yet smelling of ski boots and shampoo, and the thin layer of dust it all would be the same.  
I climbed up my bunk and laid face down on the naked mattress. It almost smelled homely.  
Had I left it here, or did I lose it when I left in late april? I dug my hand between the mattress and the wall, feeling along the thin wooden ledge. Came across something paper-y and grabbed it._

_I still had the picture on my computer, but it wasn't the same thing. The small paper copy was printed out in the shop at the mall further down the street and a few words were scribbled on the back of it. "I've been run into by far worse things than you." I stared down at the slanted, untidy handwriting and tried to ignore the empty hole inside of me.  
I'd kept the photograph carefully hidden in my diary for the remainder of last winter, it must've fallen out when I packed last spring. Two girls - one blonde, dressed head-to-toe in blue and one dark haired wearing green, red and black, smiling at the camera in front of a scenic background.  
I jumped off the bed and lifted Sam's battered boombox to its designated place in the bookshelf. Plugged it in and connected my iPod.  
Soon the familiar tune of Roxette's "Spending My Time" sounded through the basement as my thoughts went back to last february.._

**1: On A Mountain**

**[Nine months earlier, February 17:th, 2011]**

"Oh shit, no", I thought to myself.

The few minutes we had spent taking pictures at the view point had been too many. The clouds that were scenic and far away just a while ago were now surrounding us. Visibility was, without over-exaggerating, zero.  
I bent down and tightened the buckles on my boots a bit more, cursing myself for choosing my dark-lensed goggles and forced a smile before I addressed the people surrounding me.  
"Alright everybody," I begun, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

"This is far from ideal conditions, but it's not dangerous as long as you go slow, and stay behind me. I will stop next to the markings on the right side of the slope every time the direction might become unclear. When I stop, please stop below me. Sam will go last to make sure no one's left behind and Lucy will keep in the middle."  
I nodded at my colleagues who were leaning casually on their poles a few meters above me.

Then I turned right, facing down the mountain, and started to pick up speed. The mist didn't frighten me, I knew this slope like the back of my hand by now, but my clients didn't, and it was a long way to go before they'd be back in the village. With that in mind, I tried to keep my speed down, and stayed on the right side like I said I would instead of arcing the wide turns I wanted to.  
"This is work," I reminded myself.  
As the slope grew steeper and the bumps caused by inexperienced skiers became bigger and harder to evade I stopped, and waited for my panting clients.

Within minutes the group was complete, and I let Sam go first this time. Neither of us liked being the tail, a task that forced one person to stay behind the slowest rider of the group, and I didn't envy Quinn who was the one lagging now. Knowing I was up for tail duty within minutes, I allowed myself to have a bit of fun while there was time.  
Keeping my knees soft and body relaxed I used the piles of snow as jumps, enjoying every second spent off the ground. A person clad in blue slowed down ahead of me in the mist, and smiling to myself I flung my body around 180 degrees and landed backwards next to Sam, not-so-accidentally spraying him with snow.  
"Heeey!" he shouted, mock-offended, but at the same time I lost my balance and almost as if in slow motion fell backwards and ended up a human jack-straws in the snow.

"And that's what happens when you try to show-off in front of the guests," a calm voice stated.  
"Oh Lucy, always so cheerful," Sam beamed at our colleague, knowing her aloof manners were more of an act than anything else.  
"Someone has to be the mature one, and with you two kids," she looked intently at Sam who had just dropped a handful of snow on me, and then at me who just laughed at him, "..that someone is me."

A few of our clients smiled at the playful banter and all three of us felt relieved, knowing that if the guests became frustrated with the weather and difficulties, the task of going back to the village would become much more difficult.  
As Quinn helped me get up she spoke quietly to me.  
"The snowboarder girl, Lopez, is struggling. I think she's more afraid than she wants to let on. Just so you know."

I nodded and glanced over at a girl my own age with raven-black hair peaking out from under a neon green helmet. Despite her baggy clothes she looked small, intimidated almost. Probably due to the non-visibility, I thought.  
"Everybody ready?" Quinn asked out loud. People nodded and Quinn continued.  
"There's a 90 degree bend right ahead of us now, we can't see it right now because of the fog, but let's go really slow until we're past that point. It's a narrow junction, so please keep to the right the whole time, it's really easy to end up going the wrong way."  
"To the left is a shorter, but much steeper way back to the village, and we do not advise you to take that one in this weather," Sam added.

I didn't think it was possible, but the mist got even thicker as we approached the junction. I only saw one marking ahead, keeping one eye on the right edge of the slope and one on the frustrated snowboarder in front of me.  
The light was totally flat – all contrasts were eliminated making it near impossible to see the bumps and piles of loose snow on the slope. No one, not even I who love skiing in pretty much every weather, could possibly find pleasure in the current conditions.

"GODDAMMIT!"  
A loud yell tore my attention from the slope markings and onto the girl lying belly down in the snow.  
"You alright Miss Lopez?" I asked when I stopped next to her.  
"Skip the Miss-thing, it's Santana," the girl snapped.  
I knew that, I'd seen it in the bookings, but also knew my manager disliked us being on first-name-basis with our clients. But right now I decided company ethics were unimportant.

"Okay, Santana. Are you hurt or just stuck face-down in the snow?"  
"Stuck," the other girl grumbled reluctantly, but she really was. She was lying straight in the fall-line, her board and feet highest and trying to push herself back up only resulted in digging her upper body deeper into the snow.  
"Let me help you take your board off," I offered before unbuckling it from Santana's feet and shoving it upside down in the snow to keep it from gliding away.  
Santana crawled around until her feet were back under her and started brushing snow off her face and body.  
"Thanks," she mumbled.  
"No problem," I replied.  
"You know what," I continued "..I'm gonna call Quinn and tell them we're behind and that we'll head back on our own so we don't have to stress."  
"Quinn?" Santana asked with a confused tone.  
"Oh, right, Lucy. Quinn is her middle name, she prefers it, but at work she's Lucy. Dunno why really.." I stopped mid-sentence realizing I was rambling and quickly proceeded to pick up my phone.

"Hi Q, yeah it's me.. oh, no, nothing bad. Santana, eh.. Miss Lopez fell and I.. mhm. Yeah. Sure, great! See you back at aprés then. Bye!"  
"So we got rid of them?" Santana asked.  
"Huh?"  
"The rest? My papi and the other middle-aged bores."  
"Well, I wouldn't say "got rid of" but they're gonna go ahead, yeah." I tried my best to stay professional even though I kind of agreed with Santana.  
"Only because you're not allowed to phrase it that way doesn't mean you don't agree with me," Santana smirked as if she'd read my thoughts.  
"Nevermind."

I gave up and was thankful for the mist and my goggles hiding my blushing cheeks. To be honest I did prefer my diminished company – I'd been watching Santana all week and as long as she could see more than a few meters ahead I had to admit the girl was a decent boarder. Perhaps not good enough to venture away on her own as she and her parents had joined the group skiing all days but one, but then again, a lot of the guests preferred skiing with us reps to avoid getting lost in the huge ski area.  
Santana put her board back on and jumped to her feet, slowly gliding away in the mist with me following close behind. Not a minute later the dark-haired girl was cursing again.

"Stupid FUCKING FOG. This is impossible!" Santana raged.  
Luckily, she wasn't upside down in the snow this time, and got back on her feet on her own.  
"Hey, hey, it's not impossible," I tried.  
"Easy for you to say. How many times have you done this?"  
"Many," I admitted, "..but I've also seen people with less than half of your riding ability going down so I know for a fact that it's not impossible."  
"It's just that I can't see anything," Santana sighed, switching from angry to exhausted in two seconds.  
"I mean, I can see all the grey fluff, but no contours, no height differences, nothing. I feel car-sick," she continued, her voice laced with frustration.  
"It can happen. Your brain gets like super-confused when it can feel but doesn't see that you're moving. You wanna try a thing?"  
Santana nodded.

"Alright, here's what we do. I'mma go first, but real slow and try to find good places to turn, and you go after and follow my tracks. Ignore the surroundings, just look at me 'cause then you'll see the bumps through me, plus your brain will realize you are in fact moving."  
"Okay.."  
"If you want me to go faster, slower or stop, just tell me. And don't worry about being close behind, I've been run into by far worse things than you in case that should happen," I laughed.  
Then I started yelling to myself inside my head. Was that inappropriate to say? I had no idea. It felt kind of inappropriate. The lines between personal and professional, and so on were really confusing sometimes. I couldn't be expected to behave the same around a girl my own age as around people in their fifties, could I? That would just be.. weird. Almost as weird as the fact that we encouraged our clients to call us our first names but were told of by management if we did the same to them. Ugh.. manners. Manners above normal polite behavior confuses me, period.

Slowly I made my way down the mountain, listening carefully and looking around my shoulder to make sure Santana was following. As we approached the bottom of the valley I stopped.  
"You alright?"  
"Sure," Santana nodded.  
"From here we've got to gain some speed 'cause the slope flattens out and I don't know about you but I don't feel like walking back to the lifts."  
Confident all of a sudden, Santana shouted "Race ya!" before straight-lining down through the fog.  
I grinned and didn't hesitate to follow.

As the slope smoothed out, the white-greyish fog surrounding us became lighter and thinner. I could see Santana's green helmet glowing ahead of me, and all of a sudden everything went had reached the end of the cloud and all that remained was an empty slope under a glistening blue sky. Determined to catch up with the snowboarder I crouched deeper down and tucked my arms in front of my body like competitive downhillers do.  
I could se the lift station further ahead and knew I'd beat Santana to it. After all, skiers are superior to snowboarders when it comes to aerodynamics.  
I sped past Santana just as we reached a small hump on the slope. Without really thinking about it, I stomped off and moved like in slow-motion a meter or so above the ground. It wasn't a high jump, but the combination of perfect flow and the fact that the sun was behind me so that I could see my own shadow made it feel perfect.

I braked only inches away from the lift gate, my legs exhausted from standing in the tuck too long.  
A spray of snow hit me straight in the face and I wiped it off only to find Santana smirking at me.

"Look at that!"

We sat in a chair twenty or so meters above the ground and Santana pointed a the mountain we'd just descended. It's peak was clearly visible but the rest of it, and the entire same half of the valley were enveloped in a thick, grey cloud with very sharp edges.  
"Yeah, that was pretty messed up," I admitted. I'd dropped the whole overly-positive-resort-rep act completely now. Not that I'm not a cheerful person, but I wasn't forcing it with Santana anymore.  
"Disgusting," Santana stated and glared at the cloud to their right.  
"But not impossible."  
"Guess not," the dark-haired girl shrugged.

Both of us leaned back in the chair, enjoying the warm february sun we'd missed so badly minutes ago. Santana had her eyes shut to protect them from the sun since she'd put her goggles up.  
"You're gonna look like a racoon," she told me, who kept mine on.  
"I already do, can't avoid it. Plus, I rather look at the view than keeping my eyes closed."  
"Mhm, the view is pretty cool," Santana admitted lazily, not opening her eyes, which made me laugh silently.  
"Are you laughing at me?" Santana asked.  
"Not at all," I giggled, only to be met with a huff and stubborn silence.

"Do you know your way back," I asked when we'd disembarked the lift.  
"I think so. Why? You're gonna abandon me now?" Santana replied, making me flinch guiltily.  
"Well.. since the weather cleared up and I don't have to be back until four, I thought I'd go for a couple more runs.." I admitted.  
"I could come with you.. if that's okay," Santana hesitated.  
"Do you want to? I thought you had had enough of boarding for today."  
"Nah, only blind-boarding."  
"In that case.. you know what, if we go over there," I pointed to the sunny, northernmost part of the valley "..I'll show you one of my favorite runs. I never go there with the groups," I added mischievously.  
"I won't tell," Santana said, with a dead serious tone.

Two lifts later we stood on another mountain top.  
"Alright, listen up everybody," I addressed my one-person group cheerfully. Santana just smirked and smacked her mitten-clad hand to the front of her helmet before I continued.  
"Right now we're on Mont de la Chambre, 2800-something meters above the sea. To our left is the Belleville valley, which is awesome, and to the right is the Meribel valley which is almost as awesome. The really high mountain on the horizon is Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Western Europe with an altitude of 4810 meters. On the opposite side we have the Écrin Massif which is another bunch of really high mountains, and in front of those there's this really annoying cloud," I finished, rather pleased with my imitation of myself.  
Santana couldn't help but giggle.

"Wait a second Brittany. I just have to take a picture of the cloud," Santana said as she walked over to a fence to the south.  
"You want me to take one with you in it," I asked.  
"Sure," Santana said and handed me her iPhone.  
"Say cheese!"  
Two thumbs up and a big smile showed up in front of the cloud on the camera.  
"Wait, one more. I gotta do a jump-photo!"  
After the jump Santana kept posing, each picture goofier than the previous.  
"Can I take one of you?" she asked when I had snapped about 20 photos.  
"Umm, yeah," I agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable for some reason, and swapped places with Santana. I leaned against the fence as Santana took a picture, then gave me thumbs up when finished. Walking over to my skis I heard Santana speak again.

"Hey, excuse me sir, could you take a picture of me and my friend?"  
A familiar voice answered her and my stomach sank a few inches.  
"Getting friendly with the clients are we, Pierce?"  
I turned around and faced the young man holding Santana's cellphone.  
"Sobered up enough to wake up before sunset, have you Puck?" I snapped.  
"Ouch, that hurt," he said, clutching the left side of his chest.  
"Ignore him," I told Santana who looked between us, confused.  
Santana simply shrugged and reached for my hand instead, before walking over to the fence.  
"Okay ladies, sweet smiles!" Puck demanded.  
Suddenly, Santana snaked her right arm around my waist which made me twitch.  
"Ehm, ticklish," I lied and at the same time felt my cheeks starting to blush.  
Ticklish? Through like four layers of clothing, and because someone half-embraced you? Amazing, Pierce, just.. amazing, I scolded myself while trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in my body. Oh no. No. That feeling. This is not good. My brain was leaping amok until the cause of it all interrupted me again.

"Sorry, I should have warned you then," Santana said before putting her hand back in the same place. Hesitantly I placed my left arm around the shorter girl's shoulders and waited for Puck to snap a picture.  
"Great, thanks," Santana said to him when receiving her phone.  
"We can look at the photos later, I wants to get my ride on now," she continued, turning to me with a cheeky smile that made me blush once more.

The slope seemed to go on forever, in the good way. A winding blue, arcing its way down the mountain, never too steep and yet never boring. I dug the edges of my skis down the soft snow, pushing them into smooth turns, leaving a perfect railroad track. Santana was just behind me as we raced down the mountain, using small bumps to get air-time and (in my case) occasionally squealing with joy.  
We were both panting from exhaustion when we reached the bottom of the valley.

"That.. was.. amazing!" Santana exclaimed.  
"I know, right."  
"Thank's for showing me. I get why you don't wanna bring all the airheads there."  
"Mhm," I nodded, feeling a bit guilty but mostly ecstatic.  
"One more time?"

**[November 23:rd, 2011]**

_I held my hand against the ice-cold window. The familiar view was as beautiful as ever, sharp mountain ridges blackening against the evening sky. I had finished unpacking, made my bed and tried to make the place a little cosier. A small potted plant was put on the still tidy desk by the window. I had gotten it on a trip to IKEA in Geneva last winter and asked one of the local guys to take care of it for me over the summer. I hadn't expected it, but it was actually still alive.  
The picture of Santana and I was pinned to the wall next to my bed. I still missed her, I couldn't help it. We hardly knew each other but I was unable to forget her.  
17:28. I sighed. Quinn and Sam wouldn't be here for at least another three hours.  
Grabbing the blue company jacket and putting on my old ugg's I locked the door behind me. A trip to the supermarket and maybe the hole-in-the-wall pizzeria was in order._


	2. Nerves

**Author's Note:**

**Alright, here's chapter two.. not much to say really, just wanted to thank for faves and reviews!  
Also, feel free to give me input and ask questions.  
**

**I do not own Glee.**

* * *

**2: Nerves**

**[February 17:th, 2011]**

It is nearly impossible to run wearing ski boots, but I sure gave it a good try. I pushed my skis and poles into the overfilled staff locker and dashed down the basement staircase to get to the room I shared with Sam and Quinn.  
Boots off, jacket off, helmet and goggles thrown away landing on Sam's bunk, shoes and a clean company sweater on. Two seconds in front of the mirror to pull my hair back into a ponytail and then back up the stairs to the bar. The clock in the reception was nearing 16:25.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" I gasped as I crashed down on the stool next to Quinn.

"Where were you?" my friend slash colleague asked with a frown.

"Skiing," I panted before noticing Quinn's stern gaze and elaborating a bit.  
"Well, we got down from Caron, and the sun came out and.. I, we went for a couple more runs."

"Uh-huh," Quinn glared back at me.

"I'm sorry. I should have called. Or kept track of time. Or both."

"Yeah, you should. You knew Sam has the afternoon off."

"But it was great though." I smiled. I couldn't help it, I'd had a really good time and was unable to hide it.

"You so went up Mont de la Chambre, didn't you?"  
I simply nodded, smiling from ear to ear.

"And it was that good?" Quinn asked. I was still nodding and just continued.  
"Well, I'm happy for you, but you owe me."  
I nodded a bit more before both of us went mingling with our guests and simultaneously shared departure information.

Five hours, a lot of work and a well-needed but quick shower later I was back on the bar stool in the corner, holding a demi and chatting to Kurt.

"..he's simply way out of my league. And definitely not interested."

"You don't know that," I protested, trying to boost the bartender's confidence.

"Yes I do," the young man objected.

"So you asked him?"  
Kurt turned silent and spun around, theatre-whispering the word "clients" before walking, no strutting, away from me.

"A Lynchburg please," I heard a familiar voice say.  
I quickly glanced over at the other end of the bar, at the raven-haired girl who once again had my stomach making backflips. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt and skinny black jeans, her long hair cascading in waves down her shoulders. For a second we looked right at each other and as I quickly turned my gaze away, studying the top of the bar counter carefully, I heard her talking to Kurt again.

"Make that two."  
I gulped.

I was more than used to guests buying me drinks and flirting. It was part of the job. However, I wasn't used to said guests being insanely beautiful hispanic girls with whom I'd just spent a perfect afternoon on the slopes causing me to be late for work and well..  
Like I said before – this was not good. I wasn't even sure if she was flirting or just being friendly, and already I was a blabbering mess.

Before I had the chance to figure out what to say and how to behave she walked up to me, a drink in each hand.

"Hey," she said and I looked up.  
I hadn't really seen her eyes before. There'd always been goggles or sunglasses or "keeping eyes closed in a stubborn way to avoid goggle tan and sore eyes" in the way.  
Now I got to see what I'd been missing out on before.  
Her eyes were dark brown, and there was a softness in them that contrasted her confident behavior. I gulped again before attempting to speak.

"Hi."

"So, I wanted to thank you for today, and I thought you might want to see the pictures," Santana said, standing just inside my personal space. She leaned her elbow on the bar and pulled her phone up. I realized I still hadn't said anything except that lame "Hi" and quickly blurted out a "Thank you back, and yeah," before taking a sip of my beer.  
There wasn't much left of it and the bubbles were gone so I pushed the half-pint away from me and dragged a stool over for Santana.  
She pulled it closer to mine and when she sat down our shoulders were brushing. I wasn't sure if she'd intended us to, but I didn't want to flinch like I had earlier, so I just kept very still instead.  
Santana put her phone on the bar and turned away from me to grab the drinks.

"You like Lynchburg Lemonade?" she asked when she was facing me again, offering me one of the glasses.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Good. I don't know about you, but after five days of hanging out with the parents I feel like I've earned a drink or two."

"Well, officially I'm working for another hour and a half," I said and glanced down at the company logo on my hoodie, "..but after that I'm free to do what I want for a whooping nine and a half hours. As long as I'm on time for work tomorrow, don't commit any crimes or hook up with the wrong people."  
Oh no! That came out wrong, like I was insinuating stuff. I could feel my heart pound and face burn but Santana just laughed and passed me one of the glasses.

"No worries, Brittany. What do you say, I keep you company for another 90 minutes, then you change into something without that logo on it and we hit the village. I would say town, but I'm not sure if this place qualifies. And I promise I won't let you end up with Puck."

"Puck?" I was confused.

"Yeah, the guy who took the photos of us. I figured he's on the list of wrong people? Oh, and the pictures are great by the way."

"No, I mean yes, I mean.." I begun. She looked confused and I was rambling so I tried again.

"Yes, Puck is definitely one of the wrong people but I haven't slept with him, he's a douche and I'm not interested. Also, I'd love to see the photos."

"Calm down, who said anything about sleeping?" Santana said and looked at me with glittering, mischievous eyes. Then she leaned a little closer and opened the picture library on her phone.  
I took a large gulp of my drink. If I was going to hang out with Santana Lopez for the night, I'd need it to calm my misbehaving nerves.

"I like that one best," I said and swiped my finger over the screen. Santana was jumping, arms held high, and she looked like a very careless and oddly dressed cheerleader in front of the mountain backdrop.

"What, nooo! I look like a goofball," she protested.

"Aren't you a goofball then?"

"Most definitely not. I am incredibly serious about everything I do, at all times, almost. That picture is a once in a lifetime slip from my usual seriousness."

"I can't believe you just said all that with a straight face," I said, amazed, and looked at her. She kept it up for a whole five seconds before bursting into laughter. It was contagious.

"Which one is your favorite then?" I asked when she'd calmed down.

"This one," she said and flickered through until the very last picture. I kind of agreed with her already, I just felt unsure about saying a picture of us both, half embracing was my favorite. Not sure why I thought picking one of her alone was better, but the internal debate I'd had with myself about that was more than confusing in the first place so..  
Honestly it looked like one of those photos you might post on Facebook, tag yourself and your best friend in it and just write cute and internal stuff to each other in the comments.  
Too bad I hardly knew the girl next to me in the picture.

"I can mail them to you if you want," Santana offered.

"I'd like that," I said and entered my email address in her phone.

"fondue_4_2 ?"

"Umm, it was sort of a web-tv thing I had going in high school." I explained.

"Oh, okay."

"Just never bothered to change my email."

"Well, you'll have mine when I send you the photos, though it's more boring than anything else."

I was relieved when my shift ended, and very thankful that the hotel manager had the night off. I had been mingling with guests, but I'm not sure the boss would have been pleased because the truth was I'd been mingling with one guest and one guest only. Also, said guest was in a party mood and had been counting down the minutes 'til I finished my shift while trying to make me drink way more than I should.

"23:01!" Santana exclaimed. "Now you scramble downstairs and take off that hoodie while I order us some shots."

"Santana, I can't do that. What would it look like if I had a row of shots at my workplace five minutes after I finished with most of my clients still up and about?"

"Like you're having fun and enjoying your free time."

"Yeah, but.. I'm not comfortable partying with guests here." I emphasized the word partying and nodded at the mostly middle-aged clientele lounging in sofas, calmly sipping drinks and talking over the soft music. "Let's go somewhere else instead," I offered.

"Alright, lemme just grab my jacket upstairs."

"Sure, I meet you down here in five."  
I walked through the restaurant and lobby, nodding politely at the two older Lopezes who were sitting by the fireplace with a few other guests as I passed.  
Quinn and Sam were nowhere to be seen when I walked into our room and I grabbed a loose fitting t-shirt with wide neckline from my shelf and a sky blue beanie from Quinn's.  
Purple t-shirt, black skinny jeans. That will do.  
I hardly dress up much here, everything that's not ski clothes or sweatpants is fancy enough most days. I applied some mascara, let my hair down and added a long necklace before putting my phone and a couple of euro bills in my front pockets. A spray of perfume and I was good to go.  
Or so I thought.

The second I reached for the door handle it flew open and Sam bursted into the room.

"There you are!"

"Sam, are you drunk?" I frowned - he was yelling.

"No, I was only over at the guys."

"Then why are you shouting?"

"We played Xbox. And might have had a few beers," he added in a more normal voice.

"Okay," I shrugged and tried to walk past him.

"Where are you going? You smell nice. You look nice. Are you going out?"

"Out, thank you, thanks again and yes," I answered.

"Details please, Pierce," Sam said and blocked the door when I tried to make my way past him again.

"Sam, I'm in a hurry, let me go," I tried to shuffle past him.

"Ooooh no. Not so fast. Has this something to do with you being late to aprés and Puck mentioning one of my colleagues giving a guest "special treatment" as he so elegantly put it?"

"I'm not giving anyone special treatment. We kept skiing since the weather cleared up and yes, we might be going out to have a couple of drinks now but that's it. She's here with her parents and haven't been out all week, and she asked."

"Whoooa, hold it right there. Puck's right? I was only teasing. Thought you were meeting up with Quinn somewhere." Sam grinned at me.  
Oh shitting hell, he's never gonna let me go now.

"Well, if Quinn's out I assume we'll meet her, if you let me go now so Santana doesn't think I'm blowing her off or something."

"Santana? Way to go Britt, first name basis. Watch your mouth if Schue shows up!" he remarked cheerfully.

"Bye Sam, see you later," I patted his back as I ran past him up the stairs. Hopefully to a waiting Santana.

She was sitting in one of the big chairs in the lobby.

"Sorry, Sam came home and held me back."

"No problem. Where do you want to go?"

"Well, what do you want to do? Talk and drink or dance and drink?"

"All three? But maybe start with talk and drink. There's not a lot of people dancing at eleven, is there?"

"Not many no," I agreed as she walked over to the door. Suddenly she stopped and looked worriedly at me.

"What's wrong?"

"You're leaving in a t-shirt."

"Umm, Santana, the village is about the size of a matchbox and ninety percent of the bars are situated within a 100 meter radius," I explained. "Plus it's not very cold now, it was worse in january. 25 degrees minus."

"If you say so. I'm keeping mine though," she said and dug her hands deep in her coat pockets, which made her look very small and cute.

"No worries, I know the wardrobe staff pretty much everywhere," I smiled.  
Silently I envied her coat. I only had my rep jacket and my own ski jacket. When you're packing for a five month stay and have to stay within 23 kilos due to stupid airline restrictions, some things have to be excluded. Like nice, not sporty outerwear.

A quick walk later I opened a fogged up door at the off side of the mall. The french equivalent of Billboard's main chart sounded through a small PA.

"Cosy," Santana commented as she entered the cramped, tropically themed venue.

"Yeah, it's mostly french people and workers here," I explained. "The owner's more than a bit of an oddball, but it's a nice place to drink and talk."

"So what's good then?" Santana asked.

"Well, that's the thing. He only serves rum. He seasons it himself, there are like 20 different tastes, and serves it straight."  
She looked at me, startled. "For real?"

"Yep. And I warn you, the kiwi-rum is disgusting, and I usually like kiwi."

"I'll take your word for it then."

After a bit of deciding we ordered two kinds each, to have a couple different to share. I had my favorites, chocolate and lemon, and Santana chose strawberry and honey. The sweet tastes easily drowned out the alcohol percentage.

"Try this," Santana said and sipped chocolate and strawberry at once before passing the straws to me.  
It was surprisingly good, and reminded me of mixing different soft drinks as a kid. I licked my lips and smiled at her.

To be honest I was trying not to look at her too much. I hadn't noticed when we left the hotel, stressed as I was, thanks to Sam, but when Santana took her coat off at the bar she revealed a dress. She must've changed when she went to grab her jacket. Nothing scandalous, just a simple black one with thin shoulder straps and the skirt ending mid-thigh.  
My first thought had been "fuck, I'm underdressed" and my second "oh hot damn". She was pretty, no doubt about it, but I hadn't realized exactly how beautiful she was until I saw her in that dress. It worked like a good movie preview – told you part of the main plot but didn't reveal the details.  
If it hadn't been creepy, I think I could've just sat there and looked at her for the rest of the night.

We talked about everything and nothing – like most guests she was curious about my job and the village, but her questions didn't bore me like I was used too. I found myself telling her small details and personal stories rather than the _memorized-word-for-word_ 101 on the resort. I told her about that one time when Puck had to walk of shame through the village in nothing but a sheet and I was on my way to the slopes with a group of soon-to-be-very-wide-eyed guests. And that the smallest bakery has the best pain chocolates and that the cashier there always answers me in english when I try to speak french, and about the night when Quinn lost a bet and had to drink a reversed Jägerbomb. That particular night was also karaoke night, and Q surprised many with her flaming rendition of Dancing On My Own.

"It sounds like college, but with snow and spoiled holidaymakers instead of classes," Santana figured.

"Yeah, I guess. But I haven't gone to college so it's a bit hard for me to compare."

"Sometimes I wish I had taken a break between high school and college," Santana admitted. "..it feels like I'm on some sort of education-treadmill, just having to get through it, without stopping and thinking about if I even want to." Her voice held a hint of confusion and she stared blankly into thin air before meeting my gaze.  
Warm brown eyes, stripped of the everyday attitude, now nothing but curious and wondering, almost searching.  
I felt an urge to hug her, hold her close and answer the invisible questions that were so close to surfacing. She didn't break eye-contact and my body was tingling of sorts.

A buzzing sound interrupted our mutual silence.

Phone. Right.

**_Where are you?_**  
**_Heading to Peak in 5_**  
**_meet there?_**  
**_Behave._**  
**_/Q_**

Two seconds later I got another.

**_Bring the girl_**  
**_if you want._**  
**_But again,_**  
**_behave._**

I tapped in a sarcastic reply, then turned to Santana.

"That was Quinn. She and a bunch of others are going to Peak now. They asked if we want to join them."

"I assume Peak is more of a drink and dance kind of place?"

"Indeed. But it's pretty fun, if you're up for it."

"Why not. It would be a shame and waste of alcohol to go to bed now," Santana shrugged.

"Bottoms up then," I said and pointed at the drinks.

"Hey, no fair, you have way less left in your glasses." she said and pointed at the near-finished chocolate rum.

"Doesn't that mean I've drank more already?"

"No, I nicked some of yours when you were in the bathroom," she said with a guilty look.  
I swapped my chocolate rum for her half-full honey one, before we toasted.

"To the fog," Santana lifted her glass and looked straight at me.

"To getting rid of boring old people," I laughed, the alcohol making me brave enough to admit out loud that I did prefer her company.

"Cheers!" both of us shouted.

Peak, the loud basement club and our regular haunt, was bustling with people when we got there. Heavy dubstep and strobing lights reverberated through the venue. Santana handed me her jacket and the gangly guy in the wardrobe took it and gave me a ticket without me even stopping as we walked through. I knew Quinn and the others would probably be in the back of the club, on a smaller dancefloor where the seasonaires usually ended up.  
A few well-placed elbows later I saw a familiar blonde head next to one with a mohawk.

"Britt, you came," Quinn squealed.

"Hi Pierce! What's up with you and the weekie," Puck shouted before he saw the person following me. When he noticed Santana he just grinned and tried to high-five me.

"Ignore him," I lip-synced in Santana's direction.  
And speaking of ignoring. Quinn clearly decided to ignore all of her work manners and promptly hugged Santana, congratulating her on ditching the parentals and convinced both of us to do tequila shots, all within 60 seconds.

The sharp sound of a guitar blasted through the PA and the lights started flickering in a familiar way. I was on cloud nine now, surrounded by people I cared for, or at least liked, and allowing my body to move of its own accord.

_so raise your glass_  
_if you are wrong_  
_in all the right ways_  
_all my underdogs_  
_we will never be never be_  
_anything but loud_  
_and nitty gritty_  
_dirty little freaks_

Quinn and I were facing each other, shouting the lyrics like so many nights before. We'd been dancing for god knows how long now, Q, Puck, Santana and I. Others had passed by - I'm pretty sure Sam were here a while ago, but for the most part it had been the four of us.

If I'd been less drunk I guess I'd been more careful, but the way Santana had stayed close to me all night, maintaining eye-contact or just dancing exclusively with me had sent my heart and brain into overdrive. Now we were touching constantly, and it sent tingles, electric currents through my body. She held one hand on the small of my back and had flung her other arm around Quinn's shoulders as the three of us shouted along to the Pink-song.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," Quinn yelled.  
I gestured that I'd join her, and Santana made it clear that she'd stay on the dancefloor with Puck.  
The second a booth became available Quinn dragged both of us in and pushed me down on the toilet lid, glaring at me.

"Britt, what the hell's going on?"

"What? Who? Where?" Had I missed something? Weren't we dancing, having a good time?

"Duh, you and Lopez. I'm not blind."  
I blinked a couple of times, and looked up at Quinn. Sure, I might have stared a bit.. and I had been dancing with her all night, but I had been dancing with Quinn and Puck too.

She continued. "You're stalking around each other like two hungry animals. Be careful, B. If Schue finds out you'll be out of here before anyone as much as coughs."

"I'm not stalking, I'm not doing anything. I'm not stupid."

"Just wanted to make sure."

"Well thanks. Besides, I don't think she's into me like that."

"You tell yourself that, but trust me – that girl looks at you the way Puck looks at.. well.. everything female."  
I shrugged and left the cubicle.

I was confused. There was no point in denying that I was becoming more and more attracted to Santana. And it had happened fast. Before today I'd barely talked to her except for formalities, and here we were, dancing and drinking. But she couldn't feel the same, or could she? And even if she did, what could I possibly do?  
It wasn't uncommon for reps to hook up with guests, but like Quinn kept reminding me, depending on company policies you could get into various degrees of trouble for it. Some were pretty laid-back as long as it was dealt with in a proper way. TMS Travels were.. not so laid-back.

Ten minutes later I felt like I was burning up with confusion. Santana had kept close once I got back to her and Puck, and my drunk brain had serious problems keeping my hands off of her. We were facing each other, Puck and Quinn long since forgotten, and dancing with maybe two inches of hot air between us.  
She refused to break eye contact, and I stood there, swaying slightly to the mid-tempo song that was playing. My hands kept almost grabbing her hips to pull her close but I stopped myself at the last moment time after time. I must've looked a bit like a broken mechanical toy with my half-movements.  
I swallowed, and blinked, and Santana just kept looking at me, with an unreadable look on her face.  
When the song faded into and upbeat one I shut my eyes and shrugged.

"I've gotta go now," I shouted.  
Santana nodded back, and handed me her wardrobe ticket before grabbing my hand.  
It took every cell in my brain not to flinch back from her touch. Not that I didn't want to hold her hand, rather the opposite.

The silence in the hotel lobby was deafening to my exhausted eardrums.  
I shuffled my feet awkwardly not really looking at the girl in front of me.

"I had a good time today, and tonight," Santana said quietly.  
I nodded "Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you at breakfast then?" she asked.

"Uuugh.. yeah," I said, not wanting to think about it.  
Then she hugged me, softly, swiftly, before disappearing up the stairs, leaving me with nothing but a hint of her perfume and a pounding heart.

**[November 23:rd, 2011]**

_The sound of people and suitcases echoing in the hallway awoke me. I rubbed my eyes and pushed my long hair out of my face, smiling when I heard the familiar voices just outside our room._

"_..posters of animals everywhere."_

"_No way, where would she get those? It's not like we can bring anything but necessities here anyway. Stupid plane restrictions, I haven't got enough books for a week, let alone five months."_

_I checked my phone. 21:03. Their transfer must've been late._

"_Honey, we're home!" Sam shouted as he flung the door open. Within seconds the three of us were engulfed in a group hug about to collapse on the floor._

"_God, I've missed you guys!" I counted the time that had passed since we last met, at the mandatory introduction weekend. "Eleven days is way too long!"_

"_Not to mention the three months before that," Quinn filled in.  
Together we dragged all their stuff into the small room and less than an hour later it really did look like we never left. Except that mine and Sam's shelves still were in some kind of order._


	3. The Worst Timing

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, this is the longest chapter yet.. I thought about splitting it, but I didn't want to. I couldn't find the right place to part it. Umm, also, this will probably be the last chapter with splitted time-frames for a while.  
And thanks a million for the reviews/faves/follows!  
**

**Enjoy!**

**Nope, I do not own Glee.**  
**/loveisrocketscience**

* * *

**3: The Worst Timing**

**[February 18:th, 2011]**

"Samuel Evans, get your butt out of bed this instant!"  
Quinn sure did have her moments.  
Hungover Quinn sure did too.

I was leaning against the bathroom doorway brushing my teeth while Quinn was busy covering Sam in every piece of clothing he'd have to be dressed in within five minutes.  
The Sam-pile of clothes and blankets stirred and mumbled something inaudible, only causing Quinn to throw another pair of gloves at him.  
Sunshine sifted through the ratty curtains, making every single particle of dust visible.  
Quinn gave up and grabbed Sam's toothbrush off the shelf.

"Sam, I'm dropping your toothbrush in the toilet in three-two.."

"Cut it Q, you know I'm just gonna borrow your or Britt's," Sam sighed and rose from the mess that was his bed.

"Whatever," Quinn huffed "..you're up now, aren't you?"

I grabbed my ski pants and one of the hoodies from the hook by the door and put my slippers on.  
"See you guys up there," I shouted back at the closing door.

"Are there even any oatmeal in that bowl," Sam asked.

"Under the raisins, various nuts, strawberry jam, sliced apples and milk there is. And you're one to speak. Are there more boring breakfast habits than yours, Sam?" I questioned back, staring at his black coffee and all bran cereal. Same every morning. I had anything with a bit of everything on top, Quinn toasted stuff and Sam was healthy bran guy.

"Good morning everyone," Quinn stood up and addressed the guests. "The weather forecast for today is all sunshine and a few degrees below zero. No wind to speak of, so you have a perfect last day on the slopes ahead of you. For those who wish to join us reps on the slopes – we meet in the lobby at 9:15. I must also remind you to pay your room bills at the bar by 10 this evening. Hope you all will have a great day."

I looked around the restaurant. No sight of Santana, but I figured she might be sleeping in. God knows I would if I'd been allowed. My head was throbbing and I had a stale taste in my mouth that refused to go away.  
I thought about Santana for a while. Would it be awkward to meet her today or had it just been my imagination last night, drunk and jumping to conclusions. Nothing even happened, we danced, that was it. But it felt..

"Where do you think you're going?"  
Quinn's voiced stopped me in my tracks just as I was about to go downstairs.

"Getting my boots and helmet, where else?"

"Nu-uh. You were late yesterday, you stay back and finish the transfer-day paperwork."

"Come on Q, I can make them in the afternoon. Don't be mean."

"I'm not mean, you were late, deal with it." She stared at me and, pouting, I made my way back to the reception desk and flopped down on in front of the computer.

"Fine. But keep your cell on, I'll catch up with you and Sam later."  
I stared at the pile of papers next to me on the desk. This sucked. Even if I hurried it would take over an hour to finish. No Santana sighted and paperwork duties. Way to spend a hangover.

Two cups of hot chocolate, 87 minutes and three papercuts later I was done, and texted Sam.

**_Done. Sent the incoming list_**  
**_to the lift company too._**  
**_Where u at?_**  
**_/B_**

_**Menuires heading back up.**_  
_**Too slushy.**_  
_**Meet at the bottom in 15?**_  
_**/Sam**_

"Wait a sec, where are the people?" I looked around, but the passers-by looked unfamiliar and all of them ignored Sam, Quinn and I.

"Not here," Sam said, smiling.

"Guess we scared them off with that fog-descent yesterday," Quinn stated.

"So we're like off, but not off?"  
Both of my colleagues nodded.

"But that has like, never happened."

"Guess we're lucky," Sam shrugged and began pushing himself towards one of the chairlifts.

"Speaking of lucky, what happened with you and "special treatment" last night," he continued, causing Quinn to chuckle and stare at me intently, but not saying anything.

"Sam!" I protested and smacked his thigh with my pole.

"What, I am being discreet."

"No, you're not. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We had a couple of drinks, then we met up with Q and Puck at Peak."

"But you disappeared," Quinn pointed out.  
I shook my head.

"You did, you just left without even telling!" she argued.

"I got tired, okay. I had a lot to drink and when a song that I didn't like came on I went home. I'm sorry I didn't tell you though, but I couldn't find you," I said, brushing over the fact that I never even went looking for her, or Puck.

"So you didn't hook up with her then?"  
I sighed "No, Sam, I did not. Gosh, can't I hang out with people for one night without you guys starting the rumor mill?"

"Nah, not when _people_ refers to dark-haired beauties who's been sulky and aloof the entire week until you rescued her out of that fog yesterday."  
I glanced at Quinn, hoping she'd side with me when I told Sam he was greatly over-exaggerating, but she just smirked.

"It's true Britt, and you know it. She's been behaving like any other politely bored twenty-something away with her parents during school break, and then suddenly she's all excited and bubbly and dead-set on getting you drunk."  
Quinn rolled her eyes when I smiled, but I couldn't help it, thinking back on Santana from last night. She had been bubbly. And dead-set on getting me drunk, a feat my current headache was proof of her accomplishing.

"Whatever," I grinned and with that I killed off the topic, at least for the moment.

The clock was nearing two o'clock when Quinn and I parted ways with Sam at the snowpark. Q wasn't very into jumping and I was too hungry to coordinate my body. We decided to head back to the village and grab burgers since it was late and all the mountain restaurants were crowded.  
The wide, flat transport slope leading back to the resort was fairly empty so I skied switch, talking to Quinn and occasionally glanced over my shoulder.

"..so I told him I would inform the management of his complaints and get back to him asap."

"Too bad the management is at that car exhibition in Geneva and won't be back before the transfers though," I laughed.

"Well, if he wants a refund he'll have to contact the customer services at home anywa.. shit, Britt, watch OUT!"

"WHAT?" I yelled and tried to look in all directions at the same time to find out what Quinn was warning me about, which only caused me to lose control over my skis. I was flailing, trying to stay upright, but when my left ski got caught I knew it was hopeless. I relaxed my body and felt something crash into my left hip before I tumbled onto the snow.

I shook my head and fumbled with my lopsided goggles, trying to get the snow off the lens.

"I'm so sorry," said a familiar voice next to me. Oh shit.

"Santana?"

"Brittany?" she replied in disbelief.  
I lifted my fogged-up goggles and squinted at her. I couldn't help the smile creeping onto my face. We looked a right mess – snow in our hair and faces, one of my skis lying a few meters away.

"I'm so so sorry," Santana began in a small voice. "..are you hurt?"  
I moved my arms and legs, and heard a tiny crack in my right elbow - a reminder of the first time I dropped an actual cliff. Apart from that one I felt okay. A little dizzy, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the company, the hangover or the collision.

"I'm fine. I've been run into by far worse things than you," I giggled.

"Oh, shut it," she sputtered.

"Are you alright," I asked back.

"Yeah, I think so. Just a little bruised." She stretched her neck and unstrapped her board.  
In the meantime, Quinn had picked up my ski and glided over to us.

"Told you this would happen eventually," she said pointedly. I just squinted at her, not sure if she spoke about the crash or the person I'd crashed into.

"Why on earth do you keep skiing switch when you know there's a junction ahead?"

"I.. didn't think about it. Really, it's so uncrowded today I thought it'd be safe."  
I couldn't see it, but I knew Quinn rolled her eyes behind her goggles.

Santana was now standing, looking rather uncomfortable. She offered me a mitten-clad hand, and dragged me to my feet. When I stood up I felt melting snow running down my spine, and a small "urgh" escaped my lips. That set off another apologize from Santana.

"Are you sure you're alright? I hit you quite hard, I think. I just.. forgot about the junction and had too much speed and looked the other way and.."

"Santana, relax. It's just.." instead of explaining I decided to show her and quickly grabbed some snow and dropped it inside the collar of her red parka, causing the girl to squeal, jump and try to shrug it out. I knew Quinn was rolling her eyes again, but thankfully she'd decided not to say anything.

Santana ended up joining me and Quinn as we went to the small burger shop on the snow square. She was still convinced the crash was her fault and offered to pay for mine and Quinn's food, but I refused to let her. After all, I was the more skilled rider and really should know better. Imagine the horror if she'd got hurt.. my stomach cringed at the thought.  
The sun was blazing and the three of us shed our jackets and sat on Santana's snowboard to avoid the slushy snow. We had a low stone wall behind us as a backrest and shelter from the light breeze.

"I get why you do this," Santana said with her mouth full of cheeseburger, nodding at me and Quinn. She swallowed before she continued.  
"Maybe I even envy you. I was always so dead-set on going straight to college that I never even considered anything else. Like this. I never even thought about it. Not once. And now, I sorta wish I had."

Quinn let out a short laugh and nudged her shoulder.  
"You don't mean that. Or maybe you do, but you've only seen the upside of this. The slopes, the scenery, the afternoons on a sunny terrace or by a fireplace. That's not our workday," she sent me a look and I elaborated.

"There's also the complaining guests, the accompanying injured guests to the hospital and dealing with all that paperwork, the weird boss, the being cheerful 24/7, the spending every saturday on a sweaty bus back and forth to Geneva, the never really being off duty, the dealing with unhelpful french people."  
Santana looked back and forth between us, as if deciding whether we were serious or not.

"But on days like this, I honestly think it's worth it," I finished. And even though she was hungover and grumpy, I knew Quinn agreed with me.  
"Even if I'm a bit hungover, this is work at it's best," I added, because I wanted to know how Santana was feeling. I wanted to know how drunk she'd been last night.

"You too?"  
I imaginary-patted myself on the shoulder.

"Mhm. That shot race at Peak was probably unnecessary come to think of it," I said and smiled sarcastically in Quinn's direction. She merely shrugged, and I continued.  
"..I mean, you did a pretty good job at getting me drunk back at the hotel already," I looked pointedly at Santana,.

"Hah, sorry about that," she laughed, not sounding the slightest bit remorseful.

"Don't be," Quinn interrupted. "Britt needed to get out and about. Too much work makes her dull, and the last few weeks have been more than too much work."

"It was definitely worth it," I decided, remembering Santana in a black dress and hoped that no one nearby had mind-reading abilities.

"Yeah, it looked like you had a good time. I know I did," Santana said, causing my heart to flutter a little.  
We finished our burgers and drinks but remained on the sunny square a bit longer. Santana once again insisted on taking pictures, "just to make people back home jealous". The clock was a few minutes past three when Quinn stood up.

"You know what, I'm gonna go take a nap to make up for the missed sleep last night. See you at aprés, B?"

"Mhm. I promise I won't be late this time."

"And Santana, nice to hang out with you again, sorry about my klutz of a friend."  
With that Quinn walked away with her skis on her shoulder.

Santana and I leaned back against the wall in comfortable silence, enjoying the distant sounds of random people talking in a multitude of languages, skis against slushy snow and the occasional mountain crow.  
We both had stripped down to sports bras and rolled up ski pants by then, because of the heat, and before I shut my eyes I couldn't help but take a glance at her body. The image made my fingertips tingle and remained on the inside of my eyelids for several minutes.

Just as I was drifting into a light sleep I was woken up by a beeping sound and a light buzz against my thigh.

**_Don't bother with aprés._**  
**_I'll cover for you._**  
**_Tell the sunset I said hi._**  
**_Q_**

I wasn't sure if I should be upset with Quinn for sending that text or happy about the fact that she let me off work to hang out with Santana, so I settled for a mix of both.  
Santana yawned and stretched next to me.

"Work?" she asked and nodded at the phone in my hand.

"Yeah, Quinn. She told me I have the entire evening off," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Sweet," Santana yawned again.  
I agreed, half-looking at the sleepy girl to my right. She was adorable, scrunching her nose and rubbing her eyes. We could hang out, I thought. If she wanted to. Maybe stop somewhere on the mountain and wait for the lifts to close and hear everything go silent.  
I wanted to ask her if we should get going, but found myself searching for the words. It was a simple sentence, but I couldn't say anything, I just sat there, letting reality slap me in the face.  
The voice inside my head was relentless.

_Tomorrow at this time she'll be gone. You'll be outside the charter terminal at Geneva Airport in your blue jacket but probably no beanie because it's spring in the lowlands now, and she'll be leaving. Going home to god-knows-where to do god-knows-what and you'll go back here with another coach-load of holidaymakers._

Why does this thought hurt so much?

_Because you want to get to know her_, the voice stated.

True. I did. The more I get to know about her the more I want to know. And not only stuff like her favorite movie ("Mean Girls, Tina Fey is a genius!") or favorite song ("oh my god, that's hard, there's so many.. okay right now it's probably No Light with Florence & The Machine."). I wanna know if she prefers sudokus or crosswords, if she likes to get soaked in the summer rain and if her feet are colder or warmer than mine. I want to know what she looks like in the morning and hear her special "oh hi mom"-phone-voice, because everybody has a special talking-to-mom-voice.  
I want her to want to know that stuff about me.

"Hey Brittany, why are you staring at me? Did I get burned?"  
I hadn't even realized I was staring until she caught me.

"Umm, no. I just zoned out for a bit. It's so hot I think my brain's all fried up."

"Yeah, it's pretty sweaty. I'm not burned then?"  
I leaned to look at her properly. "Nope, no burn," I said while memorizing her perfect features.

"Good." She looked at me thoroughly "And you look less like a racoon now," she observed before adding "..cute freckles."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess."

"Most definitely," Santana replied with a smirk.  
Somehow I'd managed to regain my speaking abilities, even though her complimenting my freckles had them disappear in a deep blush.

"Augh, no, this is too warm. I have to do something. You wanna take a few more runs?" she asked as she stood up and started putting her outerwear back on.

"Sure," I said, trying to sound calmer than I was. I have no idea if that worked.

Simply standing up and moving away from the windless place by the wall was refreshing but I tucked the bandana I used as a scarf in a pocket anyway and kept my collar unzipped. The cool wind on my warm face felt heavenly as I straightlined past the nursery slopes, using every slushy bump as an excuse to jump. I saw Santana in the corner of my eye, not so accidentally spraying snow on the slower riders she passed by.

The slopes were jagged at this time of day but it didn't really matter. Santana's snow spraying spree continued until she hit a ski instructor who chased after her, yelling profanities in french and trying to whip her legs with one of his poles. I almost fell over from laughter when she raged about it on the lift back up. That only seemed to make her more irritated until she threw her hands up in the air and gasped "I surrender. I'm at a loss, I cannot understand frenchmen, or their language or their culture."

"Je le remarque," I deadpanned, only to receive a death-glare and a laughter.  
I tried to explain to her the pride that the french take in their ski instructors, and the super-long education they go through but she insisted they were "stuck-up divas who can't handle others having a bit of fun". In the end I just watched her ranting.

House music and top forties was booming from underneath us as the chairlift passed over a slope restaurant. The sunny terrace was crammed, people dancing on the tables half undressed. I stomped my skis against the footrest, trying my hardest to shake off the excess snow onto the ongoing party. A dark-haired man got his bare back covered with the slush and he looked up at us growling "putain!"

"Charming," Santana marked sarcastically.

Every once in a while I enjoy going there, drinking beers and dancing in my ski boots before skiing the last slope down to the village on wobbly legs, but not today. Santana seemed to catch my drift and headed straight for the second lift without even asking. A revisit to the slope we skied yesterday was way better than being pressed up against shirtless twenty-somethings from all over Europe.

One time wasn't enough. Neither was two. The third time we got to the second lift the pisteur nodded at the clock on the wall, silently telling us that he was about to close. Nevertheless he let us and a few other stragglers through.  
Santana and I stood quiet next to each other, overlooking the mountains outside the gondola. Dark blue shades grew longer on the mountain sides and the sky looked like a watercolor painting.

"We shouldn't take the same slope again," I said regretfully.

"Why not?" she asked with a frown.

"Because we'll end up at the very bottom of the village and the walk back up is exhausting. And the village shuttle is totally unpredictable in the evening."

"Oh," Santana sighed, clearly disappointed.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's your last day and all," I began but she cut me off.

"Don't worry, Brittany" she said firmly. "I've had a great week, and these last two days have been the very best thanks to you. Obviously I don't wanna stop riding, but walking all the way to the top of the village sounds like too much of a pain in the ass to be worth it. Last run was awesome, I'll keep that with me."

I didn't know what to say at that moment, so I kept quiet. Santana was silent too, neither of us spoke as we exited the gondola and put on our gear.  
"So don't take the right one unless you wanna walk," I reminded her as we started picking up speed at the joint top of the slope. "And don't take left over the edge either. We're going down the one that's not really straight ahead, more to the right but.."

"Brittany, I get it," Santana laughed. "Stop treating me like some clueless tourist, I can almost keep up with you, I won't get lost."

"Oh, right," I said apologetically.

Just like she said she would, Santana was right behind me until she knew where we were heading, then slid past me, sending a spray of snow my way at the same time. I chased after her immediately but when I was about to return the favor she suddenly stopped.  
The slope was turning ninety degrees to the left, heading back to the village, facing away from the unbelievable scenery. Santana had stopped right in the corner and was unstrapping her board. I poled over to her.

"I just have to take a picture of this," she explained.  
I released my bindings and pushed my goggles up on the helmet as I walked over to her, taking up my own small camera. I sat down on a snow-covered rock and snapped a few pictures straight at the incipient sunset. Everything was quiet now – the lifts had stopped and thanks to the lift company's regulations, no mountain restaurants were allowed to play music outdoors after the lifts were closed. The throbbing bass that had echoed up against the mountain sides mere minutes ago was now a distant memory.

Santana walked over and flopped down next to me on the rock, leaning back on her arms. She let out a small sigh, but didn't say anything. I wasn't sure if she was content, sad, tired or a mixture and felt myself drifting into thoughtful-mode.

48 hours ago she was just a guest. A responsibility. Make sure she has a good time. Answer any question she might have.  
Somewhere between the fog that had appeared so suddenly and now she had become more. She was smart, determined and sassy, yet adorably goofy at times. I knew I shouldn't think about it but what if we had met somewhere else, sometime else where we'd had more than a few days to get to know each other? How would I feel then?  
Maybe it was the short time-frame that made this so intriguing. Maybe not. I sighed loudly, I would never know.

To my left, Santana shifted slightly, placing her mitten-clad hand right next to mine, so that we just touched. I felt her shoulder against my upper arm as she turned towards me.

"Britt.." she began hesitantly.

"Mhm," I answered, not even trying to deny the soaring feeling in my stomach I got when she used my nickname.

"Is this some kind of parallel universe?"  
I chuckled and turned to look at her, all earnest brown eyes.

"Maybe," I pondered.

"It feels so simple here," Santana continued. "Life, I mean. It's easy to breathe here, and I just shut out all my musts and worries. It feels like I'm on top of the world here."

"I know what you mean. It's a special atmosphere."  
She looked back at the sunset for a while, then turned back to me.  
"I'm really glad I met you."

She was looking straight at me and I was drowning. I gulped and barely managed to choke out a "Ditto". My fingertips was tingling, desperately trying to tell me to touch her. Reach out and wipe her bangs out of her right eye, or hold her hand, just do something but I didn't move an inch.  
She broke the eye-contact, looked down and bit her lower lip.

Yikes! Was she totally unaware of what her actions did to me? I shut my eyes and clenched my right fist – the one that wasn't so painfully close to touching her hand.

Don't think about it. Brain to Brittany, I repeat, do not think about Santana. Not in that way. Not her lips, not her silky dark hair, not her big brown eyes, definitely not her lips, just don't think about her.

I wasn't even close to succeeding.  
All I wanted was to kiss her. I couldn't even phrase a reason why, I simply wanted to. And I was trying so hard just to breathe calmly.  
I slowly opened my eyes. Santana was looking at me again, expectantly. She had shifted even closer, and deep down I already knew what was going to happen.

"Britt, are you alright?" she asked.

"Mhm," I nodded with my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

"I don't think I'm the only one who.."  
She didn't get any further. I had closed the distance without thinking, placing a soft kiss on her lips.  
There was helmets and goggles and bulky winter clothes in the way, trying to make the moment awkward but when I felt her eyelashes brush my cheek as her eyes closed nothing else mattered.

I relaxed and smiled into the kiss while my heartbeat sped up. She kissed back, gently, her lips cool and hot at the same time. I moved my right hand to her neck, holding her even closer and felt her tongue brush between my lips.  
Santana kissed me, soft and deep. Time seemed to have stopped. I have no idea how much time had passed when we eventually let go of each other, but I saw my own eyes reflected in hers, sharing the same awe-struck expression.  
I smiled shyly at her, not really knowing what to say.

"..feels this way," she finished her sentence.

"Nah," I sighed contentedly before leaning in to kiss her again.

It was almost dark when we came back to the village, we had even met a grooming machine halfway down. Getting first tracks in the evening was the cherry on the icing of the perfect cake that was this day.

"Santana, I'm really glad we ran into each other today," I said as we walked the few meters to the hotel.

"Literally," she laughed, turning my insides into butterflies and snowflakes.

"Shush, you know what I mean," I huffed, grinning widely.

"Hmm, me too."

"But this is.." I began, my voice unsteady.

"I know, I know," she said. "And it sucks," she added in an exasperated tone.

That night I laid in my bunkbed, staring at the roof. I was exhausted but totally unable to sleep. How could someone get under my skin so fast? How can a 90 centimeter wide bunkbed feel so big and empty? Why was the timing so impossibly bad?  
Sam was snoring in the other lower bunk, and Quinn slept quietly above him. The clock was nearing midnight and even though I had the afternoon transfer I had to be up at seven tomorrow morning to prepare for departure and the late evening arrivals. Saturdays was 100 percent work, and hadn't I been lucky enough to be assigned to Santana's transfer coach we probably would have had to say goodbye tonight.  
Not that another 18 hours would make it any less painful.

I had almost drifted off to sleep when I felt my bed moving slightly and gasped in surprise when I saw a dark-haired person climbing up into my bunk.

"Sssssh," Santana hissed, kneeling next to my feet, putting a hand on my leg over the comforter.

"Why don't you guys lock your door?" she whispered.

"Eh.. I don't know. It's only staff quarters down here anyway," I whispered back, my brain not entirely awake.

"Not complaining though," she smirked.

She was dressed in leggings and a huge, grey hoodie that made her look younger than she actually was. A part of me wanted to freak out about the fact that she was here, in the room I shared with two others, and that I could get fired if anyone found out. Needless to say I ignored that part of me.  
I sat up properly and scooted closer to her, taking her hands in mine.  
A flash of self-consciousness floated through my head – my hair was in a messy bun, and I wore nothing but boy shorts and a worn out t-shirt that once had belonged to Sam, with the words "skiing is believing" across the chest. That thought passed away as I met her gaze, immediately pulling me into a private bubble where nothing existed but us.

"I couldn't sleep," Santana said.

"Me neither," I sighed and squeezed her hand.

"I just.." she paused, searching for words. I was pretty sure there was none suitable to describe what was going on between us. "I just don't want to leave," she choked out, sounding small and broken.  
I leaned forward and held her close, breathing in the wonderful warm scent of her hair. She shivered, sobbing silently into my shoulder.

Slowly, I scooted back up towards my pillows and laid down, bringing her with me. She let go of me and quickly removed her hoodie and scrambled out of her leggings before crawling under the covers in only a tank top and panties. Our legs entwined instantly.  
I brushed my hand over her tear-streaked cheek causing a sob to hitch in her throat. She tucked strands of flyaway hair behind my ear and leaned in to kiss me gently.

"I'm sorry Brittany. I didn't mean to ambush you in the middle of the night but I couldn't not do it either," she whispered, her hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

"It's okay. I want you to be here."

"I just want to hold you. I need to hold you, or I'm gonna start thinking this is not real."

"This is the realest I've ever been," I whispered in her ear.  
I placed soft kisses along her jawline, on her eyelids, her collarbone, kissed away the faint traces of tears on her cheeks before finally taking her lips between mine. It felt like we kissed forever, at least we kissed until we both fell asleep, curled together – Santana's head on my shoulder, her arm secure around my waist.

I awoke lying in a similar fashion.

"B! Hey B, wake up!"

Oh shit.  
Sam was poking my arm, the arm still wrapped around Santana's shoulders. I looked at him wide-eyed, but he just smiled softly an shook his head.

"I'm off with the early transfer soon. Thought I'd wake you two so Santana can go back to hers without the entire hotel noticing." Sam spoke quietly, trying not to rouse Quinn.

"What ti-time is it," I tried to hold back a yawn.

"Six-fifteen. Gotta go now, but the lobby will be pretty much empty for half an hour or so."

"Thank you, Sam."

"No biggie," he shrugged. "You two are adorable by the way."

My heart clenched at his words and the look he gave me before he closed the door behind him.

"Thank you, sir. I hope you'll have a pleasant flight home."

It was spring in Geneva. Birds tweeted excitedly from the few trees outside Cointrin Aeroport and the sky was ridiculously blue. I was standing in the coach parking lot, directing my guests to the right check-in counters. Quinn was next to me, fiddling with papers in a folder.

"Britt, your surveys?"

"Huh? Yeah, here." I handed her a bunch of customer surveys I'd collected on the bus. I was completely numb, trying to shut out the inevitable moment that got closer by the second.

"The new ones doesn't even land until seven fifteen, we should take a walk and go get something to eat," Quinn said. I didn't react until she put her arm around my shoulders, whispering "I know," into the crook of my neck.

"Mhm." I didn't dare to speak, anything but work pleasantries and I was sure I'd start crying. The coach was completely unloaded now and the last guests made their way into the ugly terminal building. All but one.

She didn't speak, just walked up to me and took my trembling hand in hers. I glanced at Quinn who mouthed "It's okay," silently telling me than no other reps or guests were around. Only the swiss bus drivers remained, but they had nothing to do with my boss so I ignored them.  
She was perfect in skinny jeans and that oversized hoodie she'd worn last night, a messenger bag casually thrown over one shoulder. She'd pulled up her hair in a ponytail cascading down her back.

"I'll miss you," she whispered as she pulled me into an embrace and I felt the tears that had been threatening since morning trickling down my cheeks and into her hair.  
I cursed my job, her studies, the universe, everything for the insanely crappy timing. I wanted more time with her, but right now that wasn't a possibility.

"I'll miss you too, Santana," I sobbed. "Let me know if you're in the area."  
She nodded even though we both knew that was less than unlikely.  
Then I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, not caring about Quinn seeing us, or anyone else for that matter.

"I'm gonna go now," she sniffed when we reluctantly pulled apart. "My parents are waiting and this only gets harder by the minute."

I gulped. "Okay."

"This has been the best vacation ever, you know that," she said, looking me straight in the eyes.  
I'd lost my ability to speak again so I simply snaked my arms around her waist, pulled her impossibly close and kissed her breathless.  
Tears was brimming in her eyes as she let go of me and as if in slow motion turned around and walked towards the terminal.

"Bye, Brittany," I heard her whisper, her voice cracking.

"Bye, Santana."

"Hey, Brittany," Quinn nudged my shoulder and I glared at her with puffy eyes. Any minute now Santana's flight would take off and I had no idea when, or if, I would see her again.  
We sat in a corner at a dingy airport cafe going through the customer surveys and trying to mend my heart with hot chocolate. Lots of hot chocolate.

"Yeah, what?" I responded weakly.

"I think this is for you," she said and passed me one of the folded papers. I looked at the unknown handwriting and back at Quinn, puzzled.

"Just read it," she demanded.

"Blah blah blah dinner most satisfactory blah blah size of accommodation satisfactory, seriously Quinn, what is this?" I snapped as I folded it open to continue reading.

"I said I think it is for you," she repeated.  
As I had opened the paper, a photo the size of a polaroid fell on the sticky table.

"I've been run into by far worse things than you."

* * *

**[December 9:th, 2011]**

_The last couple of weeks had past in mere seconds. Quinn, Sam and I had been busy rekindling deals with restaurants and shops, planning activities and helping the hotel staff to finish everything before the opening. Of course we had some time off for skiing – the first weekend had been a complete whiteout, leaving the mountains covered in white gold that we were quick to enjoy. Quinn and I had gotten new skis in between seasons and spent three days tracking out every inch of the backcountry. No better way to begin the winter than with knee-deep powder.  
Today, we were heading down to Geneva to pick up the first guests of the season, and some additional staff that hadn't been needed until opening._

"_Fabray!" Mr Schuester, the hotel manager called out as we were about to leave._

"_Yes Mr Schue?"_

"_Robert just called. They have had some last minute line-up changes so the names on your coach lists aren't accurate. Apparently they fired their singer and the bassist three days ago, but somehow managed to find replacements. Robert's girlfriend and the drummer's sibling or something. Just make sure the number of people are correct and fill in the right names when you meet them."_

"_Will do. Come on Britt, time to go."_

_I grabbed my messenger bag from the receptionist's desk and made sure I had my iPod and DS with me. After all, this was my twenty-something:th trip to Geneva – the view was becoming pretty uninteresting._

"_Didn't they change drummer over the summer too?" I asked Quinn. Unlike me, she'd kept in touch with most of the staff over the summer. I had only talked frequently to her and Sam and drowned myself in work the second I arrived home._

"_Yeah, I think so. Some Zach I think. Probably for the best – remember how they fought at the end of the season."_

"_Mhm." To be honest I'd been amazed that they hadn't been fired before the season ended. Rob, the synth player, and Jonathan, the guitarist, had been alright but the other three had easily out-partied Puck and stopped caring about work around mid-season.  
We hopped onto the coach parked outside and made sure we had packed enough sandwiches and drinks for the arriving guests.  
After we'd introduced us to Rudi, the driver, Quinn plugged in her iPod and I picked up a game of Pokemon HeartGold I hadn't touched since late april._

"_Welcome, I'm Lucy and this is my colleague Brittany." Quinn greeted a couple in their mid-thirties who were the first to approach us from the luggage belts._

"_The coach is parked right outside, it's the one with a TMS-sign in the window, number 11," she continued._

"_If you wait a few minutes I will accompany you," I added, waiting for more guests to arrive.  
A petite brunette I recognized from the intro-week waved excitedly as she exited the luggage area._

"_Lucy! Brittany! So good to see you!"_

"_Hi Rachel, how was the flight?"_

"_Oh, you know, nothing special. The food was dreadful, of course, but other than that it went well. Now tell me, how's life in the resort? I'm so excited! Have you skied yet? Are there any bars open?"  
Rachel kept firing questions and talked away in 120 km/h, not really expecting answers. By now we had about thirty guests surrounding us and I decided we better go to the coach while Quinn stayed back and waited for the stragglers. The musicians was probably held back at the odd luggage counter or something.  
_"_..anyway, I hope I can master the basics of skiing soon, it can't be that complicated, right?" Rachel asked. I was only listening with a half ear, crossing guests off my list as they entered the bus._

"_No, it's easy Rach," I said._

"_Look, there's Lucy and the band. Well, I better get on board then since we'll be on our way soon," Rachel stated and practically bounced into the vehicle._

"_She's intense," I told Quinn when she walked up to me._

"_Yeah, well.." Quinn agreed. She had this weird look on her face and refused to make eye-contact. "..Britt, there's something I've gotta tell you," she said with a hint of anxiety in her voice that I almost missed._

"_Uh-hu, what? By the way, can you fill in the passenger changes for me?" I said and gave her the clipboard._

"_Sure, but.." the rest of her sentence faded away as I looked up towards the last passengers._

_I was frozen. Dumbstruck. Totally unable to speak, think or move.  
We had barely stayed in touch – it had been too hard. And here she was now, standing five meters from me with an unreadable look on her face. Sadness, relief, confusion, joy, anger. I felt every possible emotion at the same time.  
She just looked at me without a hit of emotion in her brown eyes._

_Santana Lopez._

* * *

**Uh oh.  
**

**Hope you liked it.  
**


	4. Interlude

**Author's Note:  
**

**Well, this chapter is sort of an interlude consisting of emails and Facebook conversations, just to give everyone a hint of what's going on inbetween the seasons. Sorry if it's messy.. I thought this was the best way to do it since what happens during the summer is mostly irrelephant. Next chapter will be back to normal, sort of - it's written from Santana's POV and will introduce a few original characters that will be important later on. Oh yeah, for convenience's sake and because this is AU most of the characters live in GB. It's not really important, but it's not believable living in the States and doing seasons in Europe.  
**

**CeeBeeGeeBee - Yep, it's gonna be angsty for a while. But don't worry, Brittana will always be endgame. Proudly so.  
**

**Everyone - Thanks a lot for the reviews/alerts/faves!  
**

**I do not own Glee. I would never treat the characters the way the writers do ;) Or would I..?  
**

* * *

**4: Interlude – March until November**

[March 3:rd, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** added **37 photos** to the album **Snowflakes & Unicorns  
Noah Puckerman**, **Robert Anderson** an **7 others** like this  
**Sam Evans:** I'm removing those tags right now.  
**Noah Puckerman:** Grow some balls Sammy  
**Sam Evans:** I don't trust the privacy settings. Facebook is a conspiracy.  
**Quinn Fabray:** No one forced you to join, Sam  
**Brittany Pierce:** Ehm.. Quinn, you did. Remember?  
**Quinn Fabray:** *sighs*

March 4:th, 2011 18:56  
**From:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject: **Pictures  
**Attached objects:** vt3 . jpg, vt5 . jpg ...

Hi Brittany,

here's the pictures like I promised.  
I miss you. Everything feels like a dream now. Why is that? And why does this feel so awkward? I wish I had stayed with you. I could have endured that ridiculously small bed of yours for months if it meant I could stay. And if it wasn't for college maybe I would have. Stayed.  
I hope we'll meet again someday.

XX  
Santana

PS. I told you my email address was boring. And no, I'm not telling you my middle name. :)

March 5:th, 2011 21:22  
**From:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Re: Pictures

Santana!  
Thank you so much!  
I miss you too. Quinn and Sam says I have to stop sulking but I can't help it. Plus the guests this week are super boring. And yeah, email is awkward. Do you have Skype? Facebook?  
Also, the only fault with my bed is that you aren't in it. ;)  
Of course we'll see each other again. Somehow. I'm sure.

XX  
Brittany

PS. I'm gonna guess until I get it right. Carol? Chastity? Camille? Charlotte?  
My middle name is Susan, by the way.

March 8:th, 2011 11:33  
**From:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail . com **To: **fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Re:Re: Pictures

Goofball. ;)  
I don't have Facebook actually.. I had one but I turned it off.  
And nope, wrong guesses.

XX  
Santana

[March 9:th, 2011]  
**Noah Puckerman – Brittany Pierce** FUN POW!  
**Sam Evans** and **Kurt Hummel** likes this  
**Sam Evans:** The jealousy.. *facepalm*  
**Brittany Pierce:** "The sun will come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun!" (And untracked snow. I know the place.)  
**Quinn Fabray:** La Masse?  
**Brittany Pierce: ***whispers* Ssshh Q, people can hear you!

March 18:th, 2011 23:01  
**From:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail .com  
**Subject:** Re:Re:Re:Re:Re: Pictures

Hey, how are you?  
I found this song.. got me thinking about you.. or us. Even if there aren't an us. If there were an us.  
Sorry S, I just miss you.

Sum 41 – With Me [_Click to open link in Spotify_]

PS: Caroline?

March 19:th, 2011 19:42  
**From:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Yep.

Yep, it's Caroline. *thumbs up*  
And Britt, don't hate me now, but.. there was an us. And I wish there still was but it isn't. I'm here, you're there and we're in completely different stages of our lives, and I think I have to get over you.  
The us simply isn't possible right now. I've never fallen for anyone the way I fell for you, and maybe if we meet again in a few years.. or something, but I can't stay in touch with you right now. It hurts too much, knowing that I can't have you the way I wanted to.  
Please don't hate me. I'll never forget you.  
Love, Santana

March 19:th, 2011 22:57  
**From:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** santana . c . lopez [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Re: Yep.

It's okay Santana.  
I'll miss you.

/B

[March 20:th, 2011]  
**Noah Puckerman** – **Brittany Pierce** Yo, B! How's the hangover? You were out of control yesterday! Never thought you'd out-drink the Puckasaurus. Did you get any?  
**Quinn Fabray:** Shut the fuck up, Puck.  
**Noah Puckerman: **What's with the hate?

[March 29:th, 2011]  
**Sam Evans** CORK7 CORK7 CORK7!  
**Brittany Pierce** and **Noah Puckerman** likes this  
**Quinn Fabray:** I have no idea what you're yelling about.  
**Kurt Hummel:** Me neither.  
**Brittany Pierce:** Sam's THE AWESOMEST!

[April 13:th, 2011]  
**PEAK Val Thorens** invited you to an event.  
End Of Season Madness PEAK  
April 23:rd 22:00 – April 24:th 08:00  
_"Help us empty the bar.  
Cocktails 4€ Pints 2,50€ Shots 1,50€ 10 shots 10€  
Dumbstruck live on stage between 23-01  
Seasonaire awards ceremony (voting open until 21:st)"  
_**Noah Puckerman**, **Sam Evans** and **22 other friends** are going.  
**236 persons** will be attending.

[April 24:th, 2011]  
**Quinn Fabray** might actually be dead right now.  
**Brittany Pierce**, **Noah Puckerman** and **4 others** like this.  
**Brittany Pierce:** Q, when you get back here, bring me some Coke, please 3  
**Sam Evans:** And painkillers  
**Noah Puckerman:** Weaklings, you couldn't keep up with the Mighty Puck!  
**Quinn Fabray:** B, S, will do. Puck: You know winning "Village Bike" isn't actually something to be proud of, right?  
**Noah Puckerman:** Hey, what's with the hate? Not my fault the ladies like me ;)  
**Sam Evans: **Well, at least you won something, right :D

[April 27:th, 2011]  
**Quinn Fabray** is at home. Plan to read books without interruption for at least a month. Do not disturb.  
**Sam Evans**, **Kurt Hummel** and **14 others** like this.

[May 14:th, 2011]  
**Kurt Hummel** ESC Finals tonight! Break a leg Ireland, Sweden and France!  
**Brittany Pierce**, **Mercedes Jones **and 6 others like this

May 22:nd, 2011 09:01  
**From: **fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** lionquinn [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Hello :)

Hi Quinn!

How's everything? I don't know about you, but I think being back home feels a bit strange to be honest. Like I don't know anyone anymore. Can five months change a person that much? Because I don't think that my friends have changed – Brighton never does.  
Anyway, I'm thinking of going to London if I have a few days off, just to meet everyone. I miss you guys too much, (even Puck) and it looks like I'll have three days off in a row the week after next.  
Keeping my fingers crossed on that one.  
Speaking of fingers crossed, have you thought about next season? I know the job can be a bitch from time to time, but I'm gonna go back, and you can't just leave me with Sammy and some new random person, right? :)  
And I might as well tell you, I did a stupid thing a while back. I drunk-emailed Santana. Luckily enough I managed to misspell her email address, so it was never delivered, but reading the mess the day after got me thinking. How the heck did I fall for her so quickly? I know I take a liking to people easily, but not like that! Whatever.. I just have to get over her, I guess. She's probably back in the US by now, and I might never see her again. It's just that.. you know I'm one of those sappy human beings who believe in fate, right? And sometimes I can't help but thinking that **that** was it. Fate. That we were meant to click. But then again, she went home, and then she told me she didn't want to stay in touch.  
Sorry, Q, you've heard enough of this already.  
Hope everything's fine with you.  
I miss you, and I hope my schedule will behave so I can come and see you soon. Or if you wanna come to Brighton. Either or is fine by me.

Hugs and cuddles,  
Brittany

May 25:th, 2011 11:26  
**From:** lionquinn [ät] whatevermail . com **To:** fondue_4_2 [ät] whatevermail . com  
**Subject:** Re: Hello :)

Hey B,

I'm fine. Working loads and not much else. To be honest I've kind of stayed away from people recently. I did that last year too. It's a pretty big transition, coming back from seasonaire life. You guys (not everyone, but definitely you and Sam) have become my family and the people back home don't really compare. Not that I love them any less, but that things change. So I do know how you feel, at least in some ways. Not about the Santana thing, obviously.  
I wish I could tell you to just move on, in ninety-nine out of hundred times I would do that, but I was there. I saw you, and I saw the way she looked at you. It was pretty nauseating in the end (but you know that already). I mean, I couldn't have the heart to kick her out that night when she sneaked in our room. (Yup, I woke up. Don't feel sorry about that.) It was not very Quinn-like.  
Remember that night when we came home and found Sam with that girl Julie? Hilarious. I think she was afraid of me for the rest of the winter, actually. Sorry, I'm losing track.  
The thing is, that I get why you feel like it was fate. You guys clicked almost instantly. But she told you to stay away, and, well.. there's not much to do about that. But if it **was** fate you will see her again, I'm sure. And if it wasn't, someone else will sweep you off your feet once you're ready for it.  
I promise.  
Also, please come visit. I have a box of wine and a stack of Disney movies with our names on it. Just tell me when and I'll coax my boss to give me time off.

Love,  
Quinn

[June 7:th, 2011]  
**Sam Evans** – **Noah Puckerman **Hey man, I'm in London next week. Wanna hang out?  
**Noah Puckerman:** Ladies of London - be prepared. Also – your birthday will be celebrated in legendary ways.  
**Sam Evans: **Haaah XD

[June 15:th, 2011]  
**Sam Evans** – **Noah Puckerman** man.. this hangover.  
**Noah Puckerman:** hungoverowls . tumblr . Com  
**Sam Evans:** Hilarious, but still. Wtf happened last night?  
**Noah Puckerman:** You don't remember?  
**Sam Evans:** Not the details. Warning: You better move this convo to PM if you're gonna enlighten me bro.

[June 21:st, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** they should've cancelled One Tree Hill after season four.  
**Quinn Fabray**, **Jennifer Pierce** and** 3 others** like this.  
**Quinn Fabray:** B, are you seriously re-watching that shit? I thought we talked about that.  
**Brittany Pierce: **Yes. And it's not shit. Not all the time. But I've realized that Lucas is sort of a douche.  
**Quinn Fabray:** With age comes wisdom, and yeah, it is still shit.

[July 18:th, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** added **19 photos** to the album **REUNION!  
Noah Puckerman**, **Kurt Hummel** and **10 others** like this  
**Sam Evans:** Seriously Britt? More pictures of me in my underwear? Well at least you've stopped tagging them now.  
**Quinn Fabray:** Again, no one forced you to join the strip poker.  
**Sam Evans:** …  
**Brittany Pierce:** ..ahem.  
**Quinn Fabray:** What? It's not my fault he's so easily convinced!  
**Noah Puckerman:** I'm still disappointed that you ladies are so good at poker. I wanted to see lingerie, not Sam's boxers.  
**Sam Evans:** I've lived with them. It's not that interesting. XD  
**Brittany Pierce:** SAM!  
**Quinn Fabray:** SERIOUSLY?  
**Noah Puckerman:** heheheheeh the images in my head right now.  
**Quinn Fabray:** Puck, you're disgusting.  
**Brittany Pierce:** This is confusing on so many levels.

[August 23:rd, 2011]  
**Sam Evans** in three months I'll be back in paradise  
**Noah Puckerman**, **Brittany Pierce** and **13 others** like this

[August 24:th, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** have eaten way too much cake. Hugs to everybody who's congratulated me! Now: let's paaaaartey!  
**43 persons** like this

[September 6:th, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** – **Quinn Fabray** happy birthday Q! Hope you have the best day ever. Sorry I can't visit – work's been an ass lately. I'll call you instead! *sends virtual birthday cake!* 3 3 3  
**Sam Evans** – **Quinn Fabray** congrats Quinn! See you tonight, 9pm, right? Have a nice until then. :D  
**Noah Puckerman** – **Quinn Fabray** whooooahoo, happy b-day Quinn!  
**Kurt Hummel** – **Quinn Fabray** Congratulations Quinn, I wish you an amazing birthday. See you soon-ish :)

[October 17:th, 2011]  
**Noah Puckerman** shared a link: **Val Thorens webcam  
**FIRST SNOW! STOKED!  
**Kurt Hummel**, **Sam Evans** and **8 others** like this  
**Quinn Fabray:** CAPS LOCK HURTS TO READ, PUCK.  
**Noah Puckerman:** whatev, I know you'RE STOKED TOO!

[November 6:th, 2011]  
**Quinn Fabray** off to introduction week. Packing list: Earplugs, iPod, lots of patience.  
**Brittany Pierce** likes this  
**Brittany Pierce:** Come on, the newbies won't be THAT bad.  
**Quinn Fabray:** Wait and see, B. I speak of experience.  
**Sam Evans:** We weren't that bad, were we?  
**Brittany Pierce:** I can't wait to see you guys. (And the newbies!)

[November 18:th, 2011]  
**PEAK Val Thorens** invited you to an event.  
Opening Night PEAK  
November 26:th 22:00 – November 27:th 01:30  
_Come meet new and old friends  
and celebrate the beginning of the season.  
2-4-1 on cocktails all night!  
_**Kurt Hummel**, **Quinn Fabray** and **6 other** friends are going.  
**54 persons** will be attending.

[November 23:rd, 2011]  
**Brittany Pierce** hi Geneva airport, bye Geneva airport, hello alps. I've missed you too.  
**Quinn Fabray** and **Sam Evans** likes this  
**Jennifer Pierce:** Dislike. Miss you already, sis. Can't wait to come visit.  
**Brittany Pierce:** Naaw. Sad baby panda :'( 3  
**Sam Evans:** I still don't get why they put us on different flights..  
**Quinn Fabray:** Don't even think about stealing my shelves, B  
**Brittany Pierce:** You care about the weirdest things Quinn. See you tonight, gotta go now. Wonderful bustrip awaits. *sigh*

* * *

**Okay, now that the summer's somewhat covered, let's get back to were we left things. The airport.**

I have half next chapter done, and I'm off today so if it starts raining and Swedes do bad in the olympics I might get some writing done. Not promising anything though..  


**/loveisrocketscience  
**


	5. Things Left Behind

**Author's note:  
**

**Alrighty then, the first Santana POV chapter.  
I left a long ramble at the end of it so I'll just take a few sentences to thank everyone who's reviewed/followed/favorited and remind the universe that no, I do not own Glee. However, this chapter actually introduces us to a couple of guys that are figments of my very own imagination so I guess at last I own them. Yay :)  
**

**Also, unbeta-ed and apologies for any weirdness that might occur. I blame my being swedish.  
**

**Off we go.  
**

* * *

**5: Things Left Behind**

**[December 6:th and 7:th, 2011]  
**

"Santana! Santana, I need to talk to you!"  
The dark-haired girl turned her head towards the familiar, yet unusually excited voice while continuing to pour a pint.  
"Zach, I'm working. Can't you wait til I get off?" She glanced at the clock across the dimly lit room.  
One hour until closing and another hour cleaning and restocking.  
"Not really," her brother insisted.  
"'Kay, give me a second." She turned back to her customer, an average joe in his mid thirties, and tried to ignore his attempts to look down her shirt. "That'll be £3.20 please." The man paid and after a silent conversation with a coworker Santana turned back to Zach.  
"Yes? What's so important it couldn't wait 58 and a half minutes?"  
"I've got a job offer for you."  
"I've already told you no, I don't need it. Working nights pay better and making drinks is more fun than making coffee."  
Zachary just smirked at his little sister who snapped at him. "What?!"  
"Not that job, silly."  
"Well, tell me then, I haven't got all night – I'm working right now, remember?"  
"Yeah, yeah. Calm down sis. So, you remember that I'm off to the vast, snowy territory known as the alps, in a few days, right?"  
"No, I totally have forgotten. It's not like you've been talking about it non-stop for the last months or anything," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"Whatever," he shrugged. "Anyway, we were rehearsing today, and Rob finally flipped because Tom and Kenny still doesn't seem to give a shit and then.."  
"Look, Zach, it's a touching story, but get to the point or you'll have to wait until we close," she interrupted, hinting at the crowded bar.  
"Sorry. I'll make it quick. We fired them, and now we have like three days to find a new singer and a bassist and well.. you're pretty good. Plus you know most of our repertoire already."  
Santana couldn't help but roll her eyes. She's lived with Zach for six months now and the apartment walls aren't thick enough to shut out the music he's playing. She swallowed, a nervous feeling spread through her body.  
"I'll think about it, okay, but I really have to work now or my boss will rip my head of," she sent an apologetic look towards the woman she worked with. "..talk to you when I get home."  
Zach nodded and gave his sister a brief hug.

Santana pulled up the hood of her jacket as she stepped out into the foggy London night. The street was empty, after all it was a tuesday night in december, and the drizzle softened the light from the street lamps.  
The walk back to Zach's apartment aren't that long, but tonight it felt shorter than usual. Her mind was buzzing, thoughts slamming against each other as she considered her brother's offer. She'd known where he was going for a while, he joined Robert and the guys during the summer and the first time she'd met her brother's new bandmates Santana recognized the curly-haired synth-player.  
Thankfully, Robert had been unable to place her and she'd brushed off his "I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before" with the explanation that "London isn't _that_ big" and "I'm the female equivalent of my brother".  
She didn't need any reminders of last winter's trip.  
Unfortunately for Santana, Zach quickly became close with Rob and the band's guitarist, Jonathan, and before Santana knew it her brother joyously declared that he was made a full time-member and would spend the upcoming winter entertaining tourists in France. In Val Thorens to be more specific.  
Santana had no idea if Brittany was going to work there again, but she still tried to talk herself out of visiting Zach. If the thought of going back hurt, imagine how it would feel actually being there.

And now..  
Every feeling she'd felt over the past nine months was spinning recklessly inside her. The pain she'd felt after sending that stupid email back in march and receiving a sad smiley and an "I'll miss you" in return. What had she been expecting? That Brittany somehow would show up in Oxford, begging her not to let go? As if. Shit like that only happened in movies.  
Still the truth was that something that week in february had changed Santana. Changed her enough to make her take a gap year once her two semesters as an exchange student at Oxford University was over. She thought back to the conversations she'd had with Quinn and Brittany in Val Thorens.  
When had she ever been so honest about herself with anyone? Santana couldn't remember.  
Probably never.

She had thought about going back to New York even after informing NYU that she was going to put a hiatus to her studies, but when Zach told her he was staying in London she'd moved in with him instead. She'd soon landed herself a job as a bartender "while figuring things out", and that's where she was now. Working, walking the streets of London with her iPod and her camera, sometimes going clubbing with Zach and his friends.  
As much as she hated to admit it, her annoying big brother was the glue that held her London life together. She wasn't that good at making friends on her own but tagging along as "Zach's lil' sis" easily introduced her to a lot of people.  
Someone watching the situation from the outside would probably see it as a no-brainer. Deadbeat bartending in rainy London versus working as a singer, even if in a cover band, in a ski resort. Easy.  
But Santana was scared.  
What if Brittany actually was there? What if she wasn't?  
Santana was unsure of which scenario scared her the most.  
Her life was slowly getting out of control and she didn't like it a bit. No one, not even Zach, knew what had happened in february, and had there not been a folder on Santana's laptop named "VT11" she probably wouldn't have believed it herself. It was so unlike her, all of it. The near-instant friendship she'd struck, not only with Brittany but Quinn too. The whirlwind of emotions she had faced. The fact that she had acted on those emotions – something that she had never done before.

Chaos.

Santana tapped the four digit code and entered the dark stairwell, shrugged of her wet coat and walked up the stairs in darkness. It was nearly two in the morning but she knew Zach would be awake, probably sitting by their wobbly excuse of a kitchen table with two cups of coffee. He never likes it when she walks back from work alone.

"Hey lil' sis," she heard him say softly when she stepped into the hallway.  
"Hi big bro," Santana replied. She quickly changed into sweats and a hoodie and joined her brother in the kitchen. Eddie Vedder's Into The Wild-soundtrack was playing on low volume and the coffee was indeed steaming hot.  
"San, I don't wanna pressure you or anything but have you thought about it?" Zachary asked.  
Santana shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Why did he have to be so straight-forward? She'd only had a few hours to think about it. She sighed inwardly.  
It wasn't like Zach could force her, but in order to be able to turn him down without feeling too bad about it she'd have to tell him, and after months of brooding and not speaking a word about it she was nowhere near ready for that.  
The odds of Brittany being there were hard to figure out but how likely could it be? Who does two seasons in a row with that workload and pathetic excuse for a paycheck?  
Yes, it would hurt going back there even if Brittany wasn't there but she knew she'd manage. After all, five months of snowboarding and singing – how bad could it be? It's not like she'd miss anyone back here now that Zach were leaving.

Zach. Right.  
Santana looked at him and realized he was talking to her again.  
"Sorry Zach, I zoned out for a bit. You were saying?"  
"Look, I know it's very, **very** last-second, but the guy who'll be renting my room has another friend who's willing to take yours until may, and honestly San, we need you," he said, almost begged actually.  
"Being away for so long and living together all five of us, we.. we need someone we get along with, not just someone who can sing." He glanced at her, all big eyes and tousled black hair. Santana knew she was caving, but she couldn't resist making him beg a little bit more.  
"Zach, I don't know," she pouted "..it's such short notice and I haven't sung seriously since high school, you know that."  
"Oh come ooooon San, please! You, me, snowboarding. We're gonna have the time of our lives. Besides, I thought you had a great time there with mom and papi?"

Before she could get her guard up a huge smile lit up the small kitchen. Santana remembered the dinner she'd had with her parents that thursday, the dinner when she couldn't shut up about the snowboarding or the fog or Brittany. Zach noticed her mood change right away.

"There! That's my sis. I knew you'd say yes," he exclaimed.  
"Oi, slow down a sec. I haven't said anything at all yet, technically," Santana snapped, trying to wipe the smile of her face but failing miserably. A steady stream of pictures were floating around in her brain now.  
Of her and Zach jamming on a beat-up guitar with friends on a sunny balcony.  
Of Zach slashing a wind-lip, spraying light powder snow in front of her camera lens.  
Of her, chasing her brother down endless slopes.  
Of them, along with Rob and Jonathan and other people she hadn't met yet, ugly-dancing and doing shots at that nightclub she'd visited.  
Why deny it? She wanted to go, even if it might hurt a bit.  
She snapped out of her daydream only to see Zach smirking at her, knowingly.  
"Honestly, I believe that smile speaks for itself," he said.  
Santana swatted her brother's arm with an old newspaper but still hadn't stopped smiling.  
"No matter what happens it'll put an end to my wondering," she thought to herself.

**[December 9:th, 2011 00:47 AM]**

"Where the fuck is my fucking jacket?"  
Santana was tearing every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe.  
"San, calm down a notch or two. It's over there, behind the drum kit," her brother tried.  
"No, it's not! It wasn't there two minutes ago, why would it be there now?" Santana raged.  
"Because you threw it over there when you was trying to find that ridiculously large hoodie of yours."  
"Did no.." Santana's voice trailed off and she sent Zach an apologetic look.  
"You're welcome," he deadpanned.

It was almost one o'clock in the morning and Santana was beyond freaking out. Not three days ago she'd made the decision to follow her brother to the alps, and by this time tomorrow she'd be fast asleep in a ratty apartment some 2000 meters above sea-level. At least she hoped she'd be.

Maybe this just is the way my life goes, Santana pondered. First nothing, then nothing, a little more nothing and then.. BAM! Shit takes off at lightning speed.  
The past few days was blurry. Quitting her old job, packing away the stuff she wouldn't take with her, locating her winter gear.. well, that was still a work in progress.  
They had been rehearsing too, she, the guys and the new bassist. Amy had long red hair, freckles, plugs in her earlobes and a dry sense of humor that Santana found hilarious. Although she suspected that there was a bit more than friendship going on between the red-headed bassist and Robert she decided not to worry about that and looked forward to getting to know all of the band better.

Both Amy and Santana had made a few suggestions to the band's ever growing playlist, demanding that they mix "typical apres-songs" with top forties and a bit of nineties nostalgia.  
The look on Zach's and Jonathan's faces when both girls burst into an a cappella version of "I'll be there for you" had been priceless.

Santana started humming the old Friends theme tune to herself while rummaging through her sock drawer. Bingo! she thought when she felt square metal studs. No rocker without a studded belt, right?

The past days also had included a conversation Santana had hoped she wouldn't have to face.

Robert and Jonathan.  
The "nah, I'm pretty sure we've never met before"-facade faded pretty fast when Zach started blabbering about how Santana "already knows the ski area, she was there last february, but I suppose you guys already talked about that". Only a very stern gaze from Santana towards the two guys stopped them from questioning her right there and then.  
Later, when Zach and Amy were busy talking through the bass and drum arrangement on the Britney Spears' cover Amy insisted they'd do, Jonathan and Robert walked up to Santana. She'd retreated to the hallway to avoid the booming sound for a while and was slumped down in a beaten up couch. Its corduroy upholstery was moss green with weird stains and normally, Santana wouldn't touch it for the world.

"So, that was awkward.." Jonathan began.  
The tall blonde guy sat down on the couch next to Santana and fiddled with one of his shoelaces.  
"Santana," Robert continued "..we recognize you now, you've obviously recognized us all the time and I'm pretty sure I know why you acted like you didn't." He slid down against the wall on the other side of her and looked up at her with sincere eyes.  
Santana swallowed. Lying was out of the picture, that would only make matters worse. She had no idea how much Brittany had told anyone, but she knew how they had been bouncing around to the sound of _Don't Stop Believin'_ and _Livin' On A Prayer_ that magical friday so many months ago.  
Jonathan turned to her again.  
"Look, Santana, whatever happened when you were in Val Thorens last winter isn't our business. Zach is your brother, and if you don't want him to know anything you sure as hell don't want anybody else to either, am I right?"  
She nodded.  
"Technically, we know nothing, because no one ever confirmed the rumors that was floating around, but you should know that there were. Rumors. You know how it is, the alps are like high school revisited. Everybody's a gossip," Robert said, finishing with a frown of dislike.  
"Sorry," Santana said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.  
"Hey, we don't mind," Jonathan said and patted her shoulder. "Just wanted to clear the air, wouldn't wanna be on the receiving end of one of those death-glares again," he laughed.  
"Honestly, I'm surprised Zach's still with us if that's what he has to cope with," Robert caught on to the joke.  
"Oh shut it you two," Santana sighed.

It had felt like someone relieved her of an enormously heavy backpack, but at the same time had stung her with tiny needles. She'd been on the verge of asking them whether Brittany and Quinn was coming back but decided against it. She was afraid any answer to that question could make her back out, and she didn't want to do that to the others.

"Just.. umm, if I behave funny when we get there, act like you don't know what it's about, okay? I don't want Zach to worry about me. I'm fine."  
"Sure, S."  
"Alright, I think we've figured it out now," Amy yelled through the half-open door leading to the rehearsal room.

Santana, Robert and Jonathan scrambled to their feet and walked back to their bandmates.  
Zach started off with a heavy beat on the drums, Amy soon following. Santana counted in her head, grabbed the mic and started singing.

_this kitten got your tongue tied in knots, I see  
spit it out cause I'm dying for company  
I notice that you got it  
you notice that I want it  
you know that I can take it  
to the next level, baby  
if you want this good bitch  
sicker than the remix  
baby, let me blow your mind tonight_

Their version of the Britney song was naturally rockier than the original, but thanks to Robert and his synthesizer skills they managed to keep the dancey feel of it.

"Honestly Amy, I thought you were mad when you suggested this, but I totally get it now," Robert beamed.  
Santana rolled her eyes. Those two were so going to hook up, it was obvious. It was only a matter of time.

How they'd managed to fit six people plus all their music equipment, normal luggage, skis and boards into Robert's van, Santana will never know. As they neared the glassy building that was Heathrow's terminal 5 she began to worry they'd never be let on the plane with all their luggage. No matter how many times Zach and Robert had explained the odd luggage fees to her she still didn't believe it.  
Poor Rob, she thought. He'd been stuck in phone calls for most of the day before, desperately trying to change the flight ticket's to Santana's and Amy's names. It'd took three hours, a bunch of profanities and a lot of begging and explaining, and by the end, Rob had shouted that he might as well buy new tickets for them. Luckily he didn't have to.  
They said goodbye to the friend of Zach's who would drive the van back, and let out a common sigh at the sight in front of them.

Digital letters on the screen above her head was constantly switching. Go to gate. Last call. Delayed. Change of gate.

**BA032 LHR – GVA 13:20 GATE A21**

Thankfully, their flight was on time and uninterrupted. Santana's shoulders and arms were aching from dragging the parts of her brother's disassembled drum kit to the odd luggage counter that of course had been placed as far away as possible from their check-in counter.  
Clutching her large hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, she sat down on a bench by the gate.  
Hot chocolate wasn't a regular drink in the life of Santana Lopez, but lately Santana had been anything but following the regular guidelines in her life. Taking a study break. Spending half a year pouring pints. Joining her brother's band and switching London for the alps with three day's notice.

Compared to those events, a hot chocolate instead of her usual latte seemed very insignificant.  
The mini marshmallows might have been a bit over the top though.

Outside was foggy, the runway barely visible even though it was mid-day. Miniscule drops of water hovered in the chilly air, making Santana happy that she was watching from inside a building. She curled up in her chair an plugged in her iPod. Zach and Jonathan was talking to a short, brown-haired girl and a really tall guy that apparently were on the same flight but Santana couldn't be bothered with social interaction right then.

_can you lie next to her  
and give her your heart, your heart  
as well as your body  
can you lie next to her  
and confess your love, your love  
as well as your folly_

Santana quickly pressed the forward button.  
The familiar guitar picking of Chasing Cars had barely begun before she pressed it again.

_it's like forgetting the words to your favorite song_

_you can't believe it  
you were always singing along_

Regina Spektor didn't get to sing any further.  
Neither did Coldplay, Lifehouse, Adele or even the cheesy 90's Hanson copy The Moffatts. It wasn't until Jared Leto's familiar voice broke through aggressively pounding drums that Santana stuffed her iPod back in the pocket of her hoodie. She turned to staring out the window again, calmly fascinated by the fact that the 747 heading out on the runway could make it halfway around the world before touching the ground again.

She stirred her hot chocolate to mix the whipped cream with the rest and blew on it before taking a cautious sip. It was nearly scorching but she swallowed, shivering as the hot drink burned its way down her throat.

A couple of whole songs and a lot of forwarding later, her hot chocolate was finished and people around her began to gather their jackets and hand luggage.

"Santana, we're boarding," Zach informed her and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at his obvious statement. She was irritated but couldn't explain to herself why. What she really wanted was to curl up alone somewhere and not interact with any other human being for a day or two. Perfect timing, she thought when she remembered that having her own room would be out of the picture for a good four and-a-half months, starting today.

Standing in line with pushy unknowns waiting for the airport staff to let them through made her want to scream, and when she felt a hand on her shoulder she turned around so fast she nearly knocked another person over with her backpack.

"Hey, San, what's going on?" Zachary asked.  
Santana shrugged, because she honestly did not know exactly. She fought back the tiny voice in the back of her head that shouted that she did know, and looked at him apologetically.  
"Don't tell me you've developed fear of flying," he teased, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders.

"No," Santana told him, relaxing into her brother's embrace. She felt so safe with him, big brother Zach who always was there when she needed him to. Part of Santana wished that she had told him about Brittany back in february, but then it was still an open wound. Now it would only feel ridiculous.

_Hey Zach, I'm nervous as hell because I met this girl last time I was there, yep, a girl.. no I know I've always said I'm straight but never mind, that's not the point. Anyway, so I met this girl and I sorta crushed on her in about three seconds, and we hung out as much as her job allowed us to do for the remainder of the week and we haven't stayed in touch so now I'm shitting myself over the probability that she might be there this year too because, well, she worked for the same company that hires us and.. umm. I haven't gotten over her, if you can consider what happened anything to get over in the first place. Well, that's about it._

Santana looked around and up at Zach cautiously, afraid that she'd voiced the rant in her head out loud. Zach however, acted perfectly normal so Santana figured she had kept her mouth shut.  
He looked back at her and she remembered they'd been mid-conversation.

"Fear of flying? I thought that gene was passed on only on the male side of our family tree," Santana teased earning her a poke in the side that had her squirming.  
"Not a word about **that** incident," Zach warned "..or I'll make sure that everyone hears about the time we went to Six Flags and.."  
"Dzzzt!" Santana exclaimed and glared at her brother.

The flight only took an hour and forty minutes, and once Santana had shuffled into her window seat she pulled up her hood and tried to ignore the flight attendant's request of keeping all electronic devices shut off during take-off.

Of course Zach would snatch her iPod and refuse to give it back until the seatbelt sign was turned off. He wasn't quite as calm about flying as he wanted to seem, Santana figured and kindly held his hand when the airplane gained speed before leaving the tarmac and rising above western London.

She didn't flinch, even when he nearly crushed her hand as the plane veered almost 180 degrees to the right, bound for Switzerland.

Geneva Airport was about as dull as Santana had remembered. Thankfully, the fog and drizzle remained in Britain and a pale december sun was shining onto the grey buildings as the aircraft neared the terminal.

The irritated feeling inside Santana had stayed behind as well and was replaced with irrational anxiety. It was so stupid, she was exaggerating. There was a good chance that Brittany had moved on to other things in life, and all Santana's worrying would have been for nothing. What a waste that would be.

The passengers from their flight gathered around the conveyor belt, waiting more or less impatiently. The tiny girl Santana had spotted at Heathrow was walking towards them with the tall guy in tow. She was wearing a red coat, more suitable for a city than a ski resort and dragged a matching carry-on roller behind her.

"Hello again," she greeted Zach and Jonathan before introducing herself to the other three. "My name is Rachel, Rachel Berry, and this is Finn," the tall guy waved and let out an awkward "Hi," before letting the small girl continue.  
"Apparently we're gonna be colleagues so I thought I'd be polite and introduce myself properly," Rachel beamed and stretched her hand out to Santana who was standing nearest.  
"Santana," she said, not bothering with making an impression and hoping that Rachel would read between the lines and not try to make small-talk.  
"Oh, you must be Zachary's sister," Rachel exclaimed and Santana sighed inwardly before giving the other girl a half-hearted nod.  
"Well, you do look alike," Rachel pondered out loud and Santana had to brace herself to not roll her eyes.  
Thankfully, Amy had caught on to Santana's faltering mood and cut the conversation short by introducing herself.  
"Hi, I'm Amy!" turned the attention away from Santana and she sent grateful thoughts to her redhead bandmate.

Shortly after the belt began rolling and everyone's attention were on the luggage. Having checked in so early because of all their odd luggage Santana was pleased to see her purple duffel bag among the first ones. She grabbed it and flung the strap over her shoulder, knees almost buckling under the weight.  
"I'mma go over there," she motioned to the others before heading to the odd baggage claim.

Naturally, the quintet had to wait quite a while for the rest of their luggage to come through, and Santana grew more nervous with every ski or board bag picked up and carried away by other travelers. She forced herself to think about snow and sunshine, once again trying to remind herself why she was doing this. When Jonathan's second guitar case finally was loaded onto one of their luggage carts, Santana's heart was close to beating its way out of her chest.

This was it. There was no way she could go back, no matter what or who waited behind the frosted glass doors ahead of her. Her feet was made of lead, every step exhausting her tense body.  
Without thinking about it she fell into step behind Zach, wishing that she could turn invisible for a while, just to scope the surroundings.  
She stared down at the bags on her cart, swallowing, counting the steps left to the doors.

"Rob, Jonathan! So good to see you!"  
Santana's body tensed up and relaxed at the same time.  
Quinn. Quinn was still here. That didn't have to mean that **she** was. Santana peered out from behind her brother and saw the familiar girl hugging her bandmates.

"And you must be the new ones," Quinn said to Amy, Zach and Santana.  
Surprise flashed through the blonde's eyes as her gaze met Santana's. It didn't show on her face and hardly in her manners. The extra half second before she held her hand out and told Santana "Hey, I remember you, Santana right?" went unnoticed by the others.

"Hi Quinn," Santana confirmed, the sound of her own voice now completely drowned by her loud heart. She searched the other girl's face for some kind of hint, and silently thanked her for being such a professional.  
"Hi, welcome," Quinn replied before greeting Zach and Amy.

"Alright then, let's get to the coach. It's parked right out front, just walk straight through this hall. You won't miss it."  
Quinn took the lead with rushed steps that didn't escape Santana's attention when she and the others followed the blue-clad rep.

_Just stop feeling_, Santana told herself before shutting everything out. Her mind was blank, slowly pushing her trolley over marble tiles. It was like she couldn't take it anymore. All the nervousness and wondering faded away, all the possible scenarios she'd imagined of her and Brittany ever meeting again gone. This was it.

In mere seconds her heart would break, no matter who did or did not stand on the other side of those doors.

Santana was prepared. She felt like she deserved it somehow after being such a coward. And as she lifted her head and her eyes met crystal blue she promised herself to never repeat that mistake again.

* * *

**Umm, yeah.**

**This chapter was both easy and hard to write - easy because I instantly liked the Zach character and somehow he panned out to be much more important to Santana than I first intended him to be. (He may or may not have a lot of character traits similar to my own brother.. *ahem*)  
Difficult because I haven't written Santana before, and also because I have a bunch of OC's that I didn't know as much about as the Glee characters.  
Well, I hope you like Zach too.. I imagine him looking like a rocker version, slightly darker-skinned version of Freddie Smith. Google him or look in the Santiago Lopez tag on Tumblr..**

**(Also, while I'm at it - if anyone's into skiing as much as I am, I have written down the exact ski/snowboard equipment all the characters use as of december 2011, skis and such. Not that it's important, but I think it's nice to know.)**

And once again I'm halfway through a chapter.. I'm gonna try to get another chapter up within a week, but after that school starts and I have no idea how much time I will have to write. Depends on my social life I guess. I have an outline for the entire story though, and I'm thinking about doing a J.K. Rowling, i.e writing the final chapter now as to know where I'm heading. Time will tell.  


**Give me a review if you feel like it. Feedback is always appreciated. :D  
**


	6. 24 hours

**Author's Note:**

**Well, school's started again and I have even less time for writing, so I'm not making any promises for how often I'll be able to update. I wish I had time though. It will probably get easier when fall comes and all my outdoorsy hobbies rains away. Right now I'm just longing for the winter.  
Once again, thanks so much to you reviewers/followers/favoriters, you make my day!  
**

* * *

6. Twenty-four hours

**[Friday, december 9:th, 2011]**

We were halfway back to Val Thorens before I actually felt something. Thank god Quinn and I was sharing this transfer. I don't think I could have managed on my own. Not like this.  
My hands were trembling so bad and I've never stuttered like this in a microphone before. She's a hero, sometimes, Quinn. I know a lot of people find her a bit cold and too serious to be fun, but she's the best friend anyone could ask for. I didn't even have to ask her for it, she just took care of all the walking around and talking to everybody-part of the bus ride.  
I sat and stared straight out the window, watching the mountains come nearer and nearer.

As we were nearing Annecy, the passengers probably ran out of questions because Quinn came to the front again and plopped down on the seat next to me.  
"How are you holding up," she asked in a low voice, to make sure no guests could hear.  
I looked at her, unable to form a proper answer. How was I doing? It's kind of hard to describe.  
Of course I wanted to see Santana again, that part was like a dream come true. But I would have wanted to know beforehand, because the way we left everything, via freaking email back in march.. I could have used a hint.

My mind was a tornado of snapshots and emotions, from the first time we kissed in the sunset till the staff reunion in august when I ended up locking myself in the bathroom and crying my eyes out because the vodka redbull had reduced me to a big pile of "what if's" and I missed Santana so badly. Was I even feeling anything right now? I think it was too much, my brain had broken down.  
"I'll manage," I choked out, 'cause I knew I had to.  
Quinn put her arm around my shoulders and let me lean my head on her shoulder. She knows me too well. Sometimes only physical contact can make me calm down. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

Some ironic twist of fate had thrown Santana right back into my life, and unless I wanted to quit my job I had to manage. Even if it meant seeing her every day, not knowing where we stand.  
Shit. I have to talk to her. There's no way we'll get through this unless we talk. But it's gonna be so awkward and what if we get into a fight, I can't have her hating me for the rest of the winter.  
Oh man, I can't think about this right now. It's all too much.

I was torn between butterflies and the brink of disaster. It felt like someone had put up a force field around me, keeping me at a manageable distance from Santana. I haven't been this close to her in nine months, and now that she was nine seat rows behind me, I couldn't work up the courage to go talk to her.  
Maybe that was a good thing. Quinn knew everything, but I didn't know how much Santana's friends knew, if they knew anything. Santana always came across like a very private kind of person to me, I wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't told anyone at all.  
Right then my brain decided to remember another thing. I winced and sat straight up and started to shuffle around in my backpack furiously.

"Wha.. Britt, what are you doing?!" Quinn had woken up from her half-slumber when I moved.  
I kept rummaging around in the backpack until I found what I was looking for. I grabbed the sheets of paper and rapidly flicked through them. When my eyes fell upon the familiar name I groaned inwardly.  
I felt Quinn's stare, and without saying anything I pointed at the word's I'd been reading.  
"Yeah, that's her brother," Quinn confirmed.

Great, I thought. So now I'm not only faced with the crush I haven't gotten over yet, but her brother too? Yikes, I hope he's not the over-protective type.  
"Britt, don't worry. He seems like a nice, mellow kind of guy."  
"Does he seem like the kind of guy who knows about his younger sister's vacation fling?" I questioned.  
"Not really, no."  
"Well, let's just hope he is a nice guy then." I sighed.

"Brittany, not to get your hopes up or anything, but I was in the airport too, you know. And I'm telling you, the fear and awkward longing that filled the atmosphere when you saw her was definitely not one-sided." Quinn said. She took the passenger list from my hands and put it back in it's folder before looking at me again.  
"I have no idea what's going through your brain right now, but I know what I saw back in february, and even if she only feels remotely similar to the way you are feeling right now, things will work out. Maybe not right away, and probably not without pain, but don't give up before you've even talked to her."

"I have talked to her," I protested.  
Quinn laughed silently and nudged my side. "Britt, barely voicing the sentence _Oh, hi San..Santana_ does not count as talking. Just so you know."  
I groaned and leaned forward, covering my face with my hands.

* * *

_you'll sit alone forever  
if you wait for the right time  
what are you hoping for?  
I'm here I'm now I'm ready  
holding on tight  
don't give away the end  
the one thing that stays mine_

Santana was lost in the lyrics and the soaring guitar, not really noticing the beautiful lake on the other side of the window. She tried to shut out the voices in her head, replaying snippets of the last hours over and over again but it didn't work very well.

"_Hey, I remember you, Santana right?"_

"_Hi, Quinn."_

And then, minutes later.

_The hurt in her eyes, it pained Santana to see it. Flickers of hope mixed with confusion, regret, sorrow and every possible emotion in between. She had caused it, it was her fault, at least part of it. Why had she told Brittany that they shouldn't stay in touch? It was the worst decision ever. Even if the had been just casually emailing now and then that would have let her know that this moment, these excruciating seconds of complete awkwardness, would come.  
Now she had faced it unguarded, or as unguarded as Santana Lopez could ever be.  
Within the time-frame of two heartbeats she allowed herself to feel. Then she realized that something had to be done, if she wanted to keep up her facade of brief acknowledgement._

"_Hi Brittany, nice to see you," Santana said with all the confidence she could muster.  
Blue eyes met brown, briefly, then snapped away.  
_"_Oh, hi, San.. Santana," Brittany stuttered, hesitantly before facing her clipboard again._

"_Santana and Amy are replacing Kenny and Tom, respectively," Quinn said, and Brittany scribbled something onto the clipboard.  
Once again Amy stepped in and rescued Santana, making small-talk like there was no tomorrow.  
They'll get along well Santana thought when she watched Brittany and Amy interact._

"_Is Sam here too?" Santana asked Quinn as she was about to step onto the bus.  
_"_He's up in the resort, finishing the last work there."  
_"_Okay," Santana said, not knowing how to continue. Not that she was indifferent to the fact that all three of them was here, more that she felt weird saying something like "nice" about Sam's being back when she barely managed to say a single sentence to Brittany._

_Santana stuffed her messenger bag under the seat in front of her and pulled out her iPod when Zach sat down next to her.  
_"_Why didn't you tell me you know them?"  
_"_Know who?" Santana asked defensively.  
_"_The blondies," her brother deadpanned.  
_"_First off, they have names, and you better learn them because bunching them together like that based only on their looks is pretty creepy, and slightly sexist, and secondly I don't know them. I remember their names, like with Rob and Jonathan," Santana snapped before realizing her mistake._

"_Oh, sorry, did I hit a nerve," Zach teased.  
_"_What?!"  
_"_Seriously San, what's wrong with you today? I get that you might be a bit nervous about all of this, I have been too, but you don't have to get angry when I'm asking a simple question. You're over-reacting."  
At her brother's words Santana shifted back to silence-mode, mumbling a faint "sorry" before plugging in her iPod, turning up the volume and leaning against the cold window._

The next time she woke up the sky was tinted a dark blue and snow lined the narrow road winding it's way up the side of a valley.  
Her iPod had gone dead and she noticed a familiar voice speaking.

"..we're about fifteen minutes drive from Val Thorens now. If you look to the left you will see parts of Les Menuires, a lower resort with lots of long slopes suitable for intermediate skiers. When we arrive, Lucy and our colleague Sam will help you with the luggage and check-in. Lift passes will be handed out at the reception desk together with your room keys, and if you have any further questions we'll be happy to answer them as soon as we've arrived. Those of you who are staff, please help unload the bus and then come see me and I'll show you to your accommodation."

Brittany.

Santana couldn't believe she got to hear her voice again after so long. Their two-sentence interaction at the airport was so brief it didn't count, but this, the simple act of Brittany speaking about arrival information through a mic was enough to make Santana's insides twist with angst.  
Why had she let her go?

Brittany was standing a few meters away, talking to Zach and Jonathan. As much as Santana enjoyed Brittany's voice she hoped they had sorted whatever they were talking about soon, or her feet would turn into actual ice.

Santana's arms were sore from unloading what felt like a couple tons of luggage and ski equipment and it had gotten her into and even badder mood. Not that she disliked helping out per se, but she loathed the looks some of the tourists had given her when she helped them with their bags. Like she was some lower human being, a servant. Santana Lopez was most definitely not a servant. She huffed indignantly at the thought and started jumping on one foot, trying to keep the other one off the frozen ground.

The bus engine roared to life and the vehicle slowly backed away and rolled down the road leading out of the village. For a moment Santana was blinded by the headlights, but when her sight came back she took a while to look at her surroundings.

Stars were showing on the near pitch-black sky, the mountain peaks and ridges she knew was there nothing but dark silhouettes against the navy blue.  
The village itself lay on a slope, and she was at the very top of the main road now. There was only one proper street, snaking its way up through the village in hairpin bends before turning down again. It was a one-way road, and Brittany had informed everybody that cars were prohibited except during transfer days or if you actually lived in the village.  
Right in front of Santana was the hotel, a wooden, five-story building with more balconies than she could count and a terrace facing the ski area. She thought it looked like a severely overgrown cottage, but knew that most of the clientele probably found it _picturesque_. The word itself made her teeth itch.  
To her left was another cottage-like building, slightly smaller, and to the right was a smaller road heading further up the village, and an ugly apartment complex whose street- and basement-floors housed most of the village's bars.

Welcome home, sort of, Santana thought to herself.

* * *

I looked at the five of them, tired and sweaty, gathered in front of a wooden door with a bunch of random stickers on it. I turned around and unlocked the apartment.  
It looked like any other flat in this building – a narrow hallway with bunkbeds and closets all the way on the left side, bathroom door to the right. After the bathroom was a small kitchen with a hatch towards the main room. Between the first and second bunk was a drape instead of an actual door, separating the hallway and the rest of the apartment.  
There was a table with two chairs and a bench fixed to the kitchen wall, and another lower bench by the window.

"So this is it," I told them, and handed over five sets of keys to Robert.  
"There is a ski locker in the basement, but you can keep your gear at the hotel if you want. That's probably safer. I'm gonna let you guys get unpacked and freshen up if you want to, and I'll see you at the hotel later."  
I made my way out, nodding politely as I squeezed past Amy and Jonathan.  
Honestly, I have no idea why the band got to live in an apartment instead of in the staff rooms in the hotel basement like the rest of us. According to Robert it had been like that forever, but sometimes I suspected the only reason was to give the staff somewhere to hang out where we wouldn't be a nuisance to, or harassed by the hotel guests.

A few snowflakes made their way down through the cold night air when I walked out the main door of the apartment complex and I pulled my beanie further down to fully cover my ears.  
Looking up to my right I could see Amy and Santana throwing skibags out on the balcony.  
I reminded myself to tell them not to keep their skis and boards within climbing distance from the street, as the balcony only was two floors off the ground and the visitors in this village were experts at drunk antics.  
A minute later I was back in the warmth of the hotel lobby, paperwork and possibly the first complaints of the season waiting before the delayed staff dinner.

* * *

"Okay everybody, settle down. I know you're all tired and it's late so we're gonna try and make this quick."

Santana turned her attention to the curly-haired man standing next to the bar. He was wearing what she thought might be the ugliest sweater-vest in the history of mankind, and looked a bit too self-satisfied for his own good. Not that she would tell him, he was her boss after all.  
It was almost eleven pm, and the staff was gathered to have a short meeting, just to make sure everyone was introduced.

"As you all know, my name is William Schuester and I'm the manager of this establishment. All of you should know the regulations and responsibilities already, so we'll skip those tonight."  
Santana silently thanked a bunch of higher powers at that statement while Schuester talked away.  
".. let's start with our lovely trio of reps, shall we," the curly haired man finished, leaving the word to Quinn.

"Hi," Quinn said, her voice steady and calm like she'd done this a million times before. At a closer thought she probably had.  
"My name's Lucy, I'm twenty-three and this is my third season as a rep for TMS. I'm from Birmingham but I live in London, and apart from skiing I like music and reading." She looked confidently around the room, leaving no doubts about who was the leader of the trio, or of most of the staff for that matter. After a few seconds of silence Sam spoke.

"I'm Sam.. Sam I am.." Santana died a bit on the inside. Boy did he not have any game at all! "..second season. I like park skiing and this year I'm gonna learn cork-nines."  
Most of the people in the room looked at each other, confused and not entirely sure of what a cork-nine actually was. Mr Schuester took the break as an opportunity to interrupt.

"Well, that's great Mr Evans. But try not to get hurt out there, we don't need any unnecessary injuries among the staff. And that goes for all of you," he said sternly, adding a little laugh at the end for good measure.

"Hi everybody, I'm Brittany!"  
Santana instantly snapped out of her sleepy state of mind at the sound of Brittany's cheery voice. Her heart fluttered at the sound, no matter how hard Santana tried to keep it steady.  
"I'm twenty-two years old and originally from Ohio, in the US.. but I've lived in Brighton since I was eight. This is my second season, and I really look forward to beating you all in the annual staff toboggan-race."  
Trust Brittany to remember and mention such a thing. Santana smiled, she couldn't help herself.

People kept introducing themselves in a similar fashion – name, age, what their job here was and something more or less personal. Santana zoned out at times, too exhausted from the trip and everything to try and remember anybody. She vaguely registered the short, brown-haired girl, Rachel, and the bartender from last year – a slender young man named Kurt.

"Santana," Amy hissed, and Santana once again snapped out of her hazy thoughts, realizing it was her turn to introduce herself.  
"Santana Lopez," she began, "I'm twenty-one, halfway through law school and the singer in this so-called band. Also, I beat all my bandmates in shot-races."  
She hesitated for a second, doubting whether to say something more, but decided against it and let her brother take over, immediately objecting her shot-race-statement. That led to another interruption by Mr Schuester, this one about alcohol awareness. Santana zoned out again as soon as she heard the vest-lover's voice.

Thirty minutes later Santana climbed up her bunk bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

**[Saturday, december 10:th, 2011]**

The first thing Santana did when she woke up was to sneeze. The sun was blazing (if pale december sun can blaze) through the large window in front of her. She was about to curse at whoever forgot to shut the curtains last night, but stopped before she had uttered a word. Instead she felt a buzz of excitement when she remembered where she was. Santana pulled out her iPhone from under her pillow and rubbed her eyes with the other hand. 7:54. Usually, she would refuse to get out of bed before at least 10 am, but the view outside the windows did wonders with her morning mood.  
She climbed out of her bunk, not even bothering to be quiet. Actually, she kind of wanted the others to wake up too.

She grabbed a shirt, a sports bra and a pair of long-johns from her half unpacked suitcase and snuck into the bathroom to change. Santana knew she probably would have to adjust to "privacy" being her back turned and nothing more soon, but she wasn't there yet and the others were asleep.  
When she'd finished brushing her teeth she took to unpacking the rest of her stuff. Santana wasn't going to admit it but the apartment was pretty well thought out for such a cramped place.  
Santana and Amy had hogged the bunk by the window the second they stepped into the apartment, and under it were drawers almost big enough to host all of their clothes.

"Whaddaya doin, it's cold," a sleepy Amy grumbled when Santana opened the balcony door.  
"This place smells like sweaty boys already, plus I don't want to sleep the entire day away," Santana explained.  
"But it's cold," Amy repeated.  
"Yeah, so you've said," Santana grinned and stepped out on the balcony, half-shutting the door behind her.

Her feet immediately got cold, despite her thick knitted socks, but the thin air was to refreshing for Santana to care. She dragged her hand along the top of the wooden balcony railing causing a dusty layer of snow to melt under her fingertips.  
The sunlight made her squint and she let out a delighted sigh, her breath forming a small white cloud in front of her.

When Santana got back in, the boys were all awake, scrambling around the already messy flat in search of long-johns and ski socks. Apparently, Amy was occupying the bathroom.  
"You can brush your teeth in the kitchen Amy, I've gotta pee," Jonathan yelled and slammed his left hand on the locked bathroom door. The tall young man was bouncing around in the hallway in nothing but his underwear, one hand clutching his crotch. Santana hoped not every morning would be like this.

When Amy finally got out of the bathroom and a very relieved Jonathan slammed the door shut Santana grabbed her phone and put on a beanie.  
"Guys, I'm off to breakfast, see you there," she yelled to no-one in particular.  
"San, wait up," Amy shouted, getting her ski pants on at a record speed and grabbing a random hoodie from the floor.  
"Thank god we don't have to eat breakfast in that mad-house," Santana exclaimed when Amy caught up with her by the elevator.  
"Yeah, we'd kill each other by the end of the week," Amy agreed. Then she looked down at the hoodie in her hands, a frown on her face.  
"I hope Zach has brought more than one hoodie, 'cause I'm sure as hell not going back there before I've had breakfast," Amy sighed, looking at the black garment in her hands.  
"Oh, trust me, he has," Santana replied, well aware of her brother's vanity and inability to travel light.  
Both girls giggled as they exited the building and walked up the street to the hotel.

* * *

The entrance floor was fairly quiet when I walked up there. Mercedes, the receptionist, greeted me with a warm smile.  
"Morning Brittany! You ready for work?"  
"As ready as I can be," I said, returning the smile.  
"That's the spirit girl," Mercedes exclaimed.

I made my way over to the breakfast buffet, making my signature oatmeal-with-extra-everything, as Sam had dubbed it. Then I sat down at one of the tables by the wall. Only a little after eight, not a lot of guests had begun their breakfast yet, and with the hotel only half full this early in the season, I could have taken one of the tables with a view but I didn't. I guess the habits from last winter had kicked in already.  
Quinn turned up a few minutes later with a plate full of bacon, shortly thereafter followed by Sam.  
We didn't talk much as we ate, todays skiing already planned.

I finished my oatmeal and went to get a cup of hot chocolate. When I walked back, Sam and Quinn were mid-conversation but very un-smoothly changed the subject when I sat down. I didn't bother guessing what they had been talking about when the awkward silence set in.  
Sam turned and gave me an apologetic look, and Quinn said something inaudible.

"What?" Sam asked.  
"I said speak of the devil," Quinn repeated, glaring at Sam for making her own up to their topic.  
Santana had entered the restaurant, tall redheaded bandmate in tow.

Apart from Kurt and Rachel who were on the breakfast shift, we were the only staff present, and my hands got all clammy at the thought of Santana sitting with us. Or the thought of her sitting somewhere else, I honestly didn't know which scenario I dreaded more.

A minute later a plate full of bacon and scrambled eggs were set down opposite me.  
"Hi, it's okay if we sit here, right?" Amy asked.  
"Of course," Sam answered before I had the chance to open my mouth. I looked at my colleague, a wide smile plastered onto his face.  
Sam and Quinn greeted Amy, and Santana who had sat down next to Amy, and I managed to stutter out some inaudible kind of "good morning".  
"So, where are you guys going today?" Amy asked between bites.  
"Umm, probably gonna stay around the village today since it's the first day. It's good to be close to home if people get tired," Quinn said.  
Amy nodded encouragingly while chewing on another mouthful of bacon. I swear, that girl might be more of a bacon-addict than Quinn.  
"What about you?" Sam asked Amy, and Santana, who was yet to say a word. She'd spent a good couple of minutes studying her cereal and nothing else.  
"Well, we have rehearsal in the afternoon, around five, but we're off until then. And since San and I are smart enough to have finished unpacking already, we can do what we want," Amy said, looking at Santana for confirmation.  
Santana was still very interested in the bran flakes floating around in milk.

I didn't like this.  
I wasn't used to feeling so uncomfortable just being around somebody. Most of the time I take a liking to pretty much everyone around me, and if I don't I just don't spend time with them. Now I desperately wanted to spend time with Santana, but at the same time, just sitting at the same table as her made everything feel stiff and frustrating. I knew we needed to talk, but I couldn't do it here, now, with Sam, Quinn and Amy. Plus I was technically working.

I looked away from Santana who still refused to look anywhere but her cereal bowl. It amazed me that Amy hadn't picked up on the weird atmosphere, girl seemed like a social chameleon in every other aspect. Or maybe she had picked it up but chose not to comment on it. Actually, that seemed pretty likely.

"So are you gonna go riding, or just hang out in the village," Sam asked Amy. Not that he was shutting Santana out of the conversation, but she was obviously not interested in any kind of small-talk. Maybe she was just not a morning person. The thought just hit me, and I sighed to myself. What if I was making assumptions, building a pipe-dream around everything and Santana was just in a bad mood?  
No. It couldn't be like that. God knows it was weird yesterday too.  
"Probably go riding, right San?" Amy answered, nudging Santana with her elbow.  
"San, hey San?!" Amy tried. "Honestly, what has gotten into you? You were a fluffy ball of cheeriness like ten minutes ago. What happened?" Amy asked Santana.  
"Yeah, sure, we can go riding," Santana mumbled to the cereal bowl.  
"Gee whizz, if I didn't know better I'd think you don't wanna be here," Amy retorted, and I swear I saw Santana deflate a little bit more. Her eyes was facing downward but I could picture the look on her face. It was similar to the look she'd had that day in february when we parted ways – helplessly sad.

I just wanted to swap chairs with Amy and hold Santana close. Feel her slender body mold into mine and apologize for nothing and everything. Was there anything I could do to get rid of the miserable cloud that had sunk upon our table?  
The whole situation was becoming kind of bizarre to me. Neither of us had done anything truly hurtful, we'd just accepted the way things were, yet here we sat, behaving like we'd torn each other's hearts apart.  
Couldn't she even talk to me? Look at me? Acknowledge me in any way?  
"I'm gonna go get changed," I told the four of them, grabbed my empty cup and bolted.

* * *

I hadn't been myself all morning. Quinn singlehandedly decided that I was to ride with a small group of more experienced skiers, she and Sam taking care of the slower guests. I appreciated the gesture but I had a hard time summoning my inner tour guide. I struggled to find the cheerfulness that normally just were there.

I was leading the way down Christine, one of my favorite slopes, trying so hard to shut down the brooding parts of my brain. It was as if my subconscious had decided to not let me, no matter how I tried to just let go, let my body ski and nothing else, it did not work.  
I was furious when I reached the flatter part of the slope, heading back to the lift station. There I was, at the place I loved most in the world, doing something I both like and am good at, and still it felt like someone was poking me with needles and ember. Frustration is to short a word to describe what I felt.

I hardly ever act out when I get angry, but I swear, had I been alone or just with friends, I think I would have snapped a pole or something. Instead I had to settle for swallowing the anger and engaging in polite conversation with 40-something Gordon from Manchester who was nice and all that but severely overestimated his own riding abilities. After listening to him rant about "carving skis have made skiing too easy, you should have been there in the eighties when only the truly skilled could master the black slopes and moguls" an entire lift ride I was even closer to doing something stupid, like yelling and punching something. Thankfully, lunch time was approaching and I could lead the group back to the hotel for a break on the sunny terrace.

"You look like someone has dragged a fork under your skis," Quinn said when she plopped down next to me, unzipping her jacket and loosening the waist belt of her back-protector.  
"More like someone has been pestering me about an eighties revival all morning, and another someone simply just exists," I sighed and covered my face with my hands.  
"I see."  
Quinn took off her helmet and put it on the wooden floor, then flung her arm around my shoulders.  
"Why don't you tell the first someone about the glorious eighties theme party we throw on tuesdays and suggest he shows up in a speed suit, and while you're at it, tell the other someone about the theme party too, and hope she shows up and maybe even remembers how to use words."  
I leaned my head against Quinn's shoulder, not relieved, but a little bit less miserable.

"Thank you Lucy Q. I don't know what I'd do without you," I sighed.  
"Accidentally rhyme?" Quinn deadpanned.

* * *

I was lying in my bed, aching feet on top of the wardrobe next to it. It had been a long day, and my feet hurt a bit from the ski boots. I was half asleep, thinking about setting my alarm to make sure I wouldn't miss dinner.  
Sam was up in the bar, and Quinn was sprawled in a similar fashion to me in her own bunk.

"Quinn," I whined.  
"Mhmff?"  
"The band starts playing for reals on tuesday, right?"  
"Yeah, how come?" she sounded a bit more awake with every word.  
"I don't know," I answered, because I didn't. I didn't know anything right now.. I was just confused, and I knew I had to talk to Santana sooner or later. Preferably sooner. But at the same time I didn't want to make her even more uncomfortable, and from what I could tell, none of her friends or her brother knew exactly how close we'd gotten back in february.  
"Well, just make sure you're in a dancey mood come tuesday, 'cause I for one won't be able to stand still if they're half as good as last year," Quinn yawned.

True. They had been great last year, and I hoped the new band members hadn't changed that. Suddenly I realized that I'd never even heard Santana sing, and I felt myself really looking forward to it. Quinn fell silent again, and I turned around, staring at the ceiling, still deciding whether to give in to sleep or not. My eyelids felt heavier and heavier and within minutes I'd dozed off.

It was Quinn's voice who woke me again.

"Gosh, I'd forgotten how thin these walls are," she huffed. She sat up on the edge of her bed, pulling a hand through her short blonde hair that was sprawled in all directions.  
"Huh?"  
"Walls. Thin. I was almost asleep and now dear Santana and bandmates are obviously rehearsing across the hallway. Can't you hear it?"  
I shook my head and strained my ears to catch whatever sound had woken Quinn up. A muffled beating sound that must've been drums came through the walls, followed seconds later by guitar and bass. I recognized the song, but I couldn't remember the name. Then Santana started singing.

_love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on  
livin' like a lover with a radar phone_

The sound was muffled because of the walls separating us, but my god could the girl sing. Her soulful voice brought the old Def Leppard-song to a whole other level. I'd heard it several times a week last year, and now it felt like an entirely different song, two sentences in.  
Right then a male voice took over.

_lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp  
demolition woman can I be your man?  
_

I recognized Jonathan's voice, and he wasn't too bad either, but more of a regular rocker than Santana. As the song went on, they sang together, occasionally harmonizing. I don't know that much about music, but what I heard seemed so playful.

_razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light  
television lover, baby, go all night  
sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet  
little miss innocent sugar me,_

_take a bottle, shake it up_  
_break the bubble, break it up!_

_pour some sugar on me_  
_in the name of love_  
_pour some sugar on me_  
_c'mon fire me up_  
_pour your sugar on me_  
_oh, I can't get enough_  
_I'm hot, sticky sweet_  
_from my head to my feet, yeah_

I couldn't wait to see them perform live. Before I could stop myself I started imagining what it would look like. I knew the small, makeshift stage would be placed in one end of the L-shaped bar and restaurant area, with soon-to-be fogged-up windows behind the band. I pictured Santana, her dark hair let loose, prancing along the stage in ripped black jeans and a tank top. Fantasy-Santana was standing on top of one of the huge speakers at the edges of the stage, urging her audience to sing along, splitting the crowd into two parts and having them to do a shouting battle against each other.

Then she'd look at me, only for a second but with a glint in her eyes that spoke a thousand words.  
"I'm yours," her eyes would say, and I'd find the energy to dance and jump around with the crowd for another thirty minutes.  
I had no doubt that real-life Santana would be as charismatic as the one in my daydream. Not quite as sure about the eyeing though.  
There was an imaginative post-it note inside my head on which I'd scribbled the words "talk to Santana". Now I grabbed an imaginary highlight-pen and circled it with neon pink.

I tried to get my head around the fact that 24 hours ago I'd just learned that she was back in my life. Yesterday felt like a decade ago.

* * *

**Okay, I feel this chapter was bit of a filler, but I wanted to describe the environment a little, and even though a part of me just want them to fall into each others arms and end up happily ever after I don't want it to happen yet. Sorry 'bout that. Give 'em some time. Next chapter is more than halfway by the way, and from the looks of it, I'll have some time to write this upcoming weekend as I'm gonna spend five or six hours on a train. But, no promises. :)**

**Also, the song Santana's listening to in the beginning of her POV is 23 by Jimmy Eat World. One of my all-time favorite songs and I thought it fitted the chapter.  
**


	7. Heartbeats

**Author's Note:  
**

**You've probably figured it out already, but just to make things clear: Santana is written in third person and Brittany in first person unless otherwise stated. There's a bit of POV-swapping going on and I hope it's not too confusing.  
Also, I'm sorry I don't update very often.. freaking school taking up too much time.  
**

**Um, that's about it. Enjoy!  
**

**(And special thanks to you who faves/reviews/follows ^^,)  
**

* * *

**7. Heartbeats**

**[Monday, december 12:th, 2011]**

Santana and Amy was walking down the only street as fast as the slippery surface would allow them to do without ending up face down on the icy asphalt. They had spent the better part of the day in front of Santana's computer, creating a poster for the band in Photoshop and were on their way to put it up all over the resort. Not that they really needed to, the hotel's aprés ski was usually crowded without advertising, but the weather was shitty and they had nothing else to do.

It was a simple design, more for fun than anything else. Santana had convinced all of them to line up in the basement of the building they lived in to take a proper group shot, and with a self-timer on her camera and an off-camera flash they had a decent shot within a few tries.  
Then Santana and Amy had sat down with the computer, arguing for hours about which font to use.

"No one will take us seriously if we use Curlz MT," Santana had giggled when Amy tried the ridiculous font. "And don't even think about Comic Sans," she added with horror.  
"Santana, we're a cover band named Dumbstruck. No one will take us seriously no matter what font we use on the posters."  
"It really is a stupid name, isn't it?"  
"Yep, it is, but it's well-known. The guys have used it for years."  
"Doesn't make it any less stupid."  
"Nah.. but we could have been worse off. There's one band I saw when I was on vacation in Val d'Isère a few years ago who was named Mullit. Like a misspelled hairdo. They were great, but the name.. it still makes me cringe," Amy thought out loud.

After bribing Mercedes to let them use the hotel's printer, insisting that is would be good for the business and that they'd take all the blame if Mr Schuester would disapprove, the two girls had set out on their advertising stroll.

Everything was grey, even the lamp lights seemed to have a greyish glow. It was early afternoon and nowhere near sunset, but the gloomy weather was tiring. The temperature was just below zero and the muddy slush seeped its way into the girls' boots in a matter of minutes.  
By the time they'd reached the bottom of the village neither of them remembered why they'd decided on doing this.

"How many do we have left?" Amy asked.  
"Ugh, I don't know," Santana looked at the bunch of papers she was holding. "Twenty maybe."  
"Well, I can't think of a bulletin board we haven't covered, and I doubt that other bars will let us put up our posters on their doors."  
"Now that would be counter-productive," Santana laughed. "Come on let's go back. We can save the rest for another time."  
"Okay, but we're stopping by the supermarket. I have chocolate cravings, and the guys wanted a crate of beer," Amy decided, and the two girls trudged back up through the slush.

As they were queuing in the check-out line at the supermarket Santana saw a familiar hairdo entering the store. Why the person in question had stepped outside without wearing a beanie was a mystery to begin with, but Santana figured it was up to him if he wanted to freeze his ears off. She quickly averted her eyes and silently begged the painfully slow cashier to speed up a little. Unsurprisingly the universe worked against her.

"Lopez, hey Lopez, is that you?" a male voice called out. Santana turned around, still avoiding eye-contact.  
"Puck, hi."  
"Fancy seeing you here, Back for more special treatment, huh?" the young man said with an indicative voice. Before Santana could gather herself enough to respond he spoke again.  
"Or maybe.. don't tell me you're here on a surprise visit? Bet she loves that huh?"

Santana was torn between wanting to sink through the floor tiles and seriously injure Puck. Or at least make him shut up, but for once in her life, words and Santana Lopez weren't the best of friends. She begged every higher power she'd ever heard of that Amy wouldn't react on the pronoun used, or react at all.  
"Puck!"  
He laughed loudly when he realized how flustered Santana was.  
"Just.. shut the hell up, will ya?" Santana sputtered.  
"Relax ST, what's the fuss?"  
"ST? My initials are SL, airhead."  
"Yeah, but ST stands for special treatment," Puck smirked.  
Then, just like that, he stopped. His facial expression changed so fast it almost made Santana snort when she saw where he was looking.

"Aren't you gonna introduce us," he asked Santana.  
She rolled her eyes and coughed to disguise her chuckle.  
"Yeah, right. Amy, Puck, Puck, Amy," Santana drawled, hoping that the uncomfortable meeting would be over as soon as possible.  
"Nice to meet you," Puck said, straightening his back and extending his hand to Amy, past Santana who just stood there with an "oh really"-expression on her face.  
"Eh.. same?" Amy said, glancing at her dumbfounded bandmate before hesitantly shaking Puck's hand.

"Dix-sept euros, quatre-vingt centimes s'il vous plait."  
The cashier's voice interrupted their conversation.  
"Oh, right," Amy said and rummaged around in the pockets of her jacket. She gave the coins a confused look before she saw the digital numbers on the register and handing over a twenty euro bill and getting two coins in return.  
"Merci bien, bonne journee."  
"Bonjour!" Amy replied in a cheerful voice that somehow reminded Santana of a certain blonde.

"Umm, Puck, we've gotta go, but see you around, yeah," Santana called over her shoulder.  
"Drop by Peak and I'll give you ladies a treat," he shouted with a wink.

"Who was that," Amy asked once they were out on the street.  
"Noah Puckerman. I met him a few times last winter. He's a bartender, party animal and also resident womanizer, at least if you ask him."  
"I think you can add _least subtle guy in the universe_ to that list," the redhead laughed.  
"Probably."

Then Amy turned serious, and Santana knew what was coming. Knowledge didn't stop her heart from racing erratically though, and her cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather.  
"Santana, what was the other thing about? Before he started hitting on me," Amy asked softly.  
"I don't wanna talk about it," Santana said, a little too harsh and too fast.  
"Are you sure? Cause from the way you're acting it seems like you maybe need to talk.." Amy tried with obvious concern.  
"Look, I'm not mad at you or anything, but I really don't wanna talk about it. Not now."  
"Okay, but **if** you do, you know where to find me. Seriously, whenever."

Santana wasn't a hugsy person, but hadn't she been carrying a crate of beer she might have hugged Amy. How could she be so caring and still so easy to hang out with? Amy had somehow managed to get close to Santana without annoying her, and that didn't happen very often. Especially not in such a short period of time.

"I'll listen to you too, you know. If you ever need to talk," Santana said quietly, thinking about the longing looks she'd seen between Amy and Robert.  
Amy didn't say anything in return, just smiled shyly.

They were silent for a while, only the slopping sounds from their footsteps in the slush keeping them company on the deserted street.  
"Hey Amy?" Santana said after a while.  
"Yeah, what?"

Her voice was not much more than a whisper when she choked out "Please don't tell anyone about that."  
"'Course not," Amy replied and Santana literally felt her shoulders relax.

* * *

The Dumbstrucks was yet to try out the nightlife of the village. Instead of partying they'd been using the evenings for rehearsals and setlist-planning.  
"Tomorrow!" Jonathan exclaimed as he plopped down on Amy's bed.  
"Does this look like a sofa to you?" Amy huffed and tried to push him out of the bed.  
"Naaw, come on! Are you banishing me to _that_?" Jonathan sent a discontent look at the wooden bench, currently housing Santana and Robert.  
"Yes. That, or a chair. My bed is not a sofa, gotta respect that Jon."  
"Fii-iine," he sighed and resorted to one of the wobbly wooden chairs instead.

Amy stretched her body, making use of all the space her narrow bunk was, rolled around and squeaked a bit.  
"Amy, we've got the picture. Come on now, let's focus," Robert said, trying to get his bandmates to concentrate on work.  
"In that case I want a beer," Zach decided.  
"Me too!" all the others, Robert included, yelled.  
Amy rolled out of her bed and landed on the carpet with a thud before scrambling to her feet and fetching five tiny bottles of beer from the balcony.

"Alright, so what have we got? Everyone's alright with _Highway_ for starter?" Robert asked.  
"Yeah, well, it's pretty mandatory," Zach agreed.

Santana took a sip of the tiny beer bottle, considering the songs in their repertoire in her head. Not that she was against a bit of AC/DC, not at all, but she wanted to make sure they played at least a couple of songs from this millennium.

"What about Kings of Leon? That's one hell of a sing-a-long-chorus, plus it's really easy to play."  
"Sure, no probs," Robert said and scribbled the letters SOF on his notepad.  
"And _Till The World Ends_," Amy demanded.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically, earning a death glare from Amy, Santana and Zach.  
"Do we have to?"  
"Jon, mate, we've rehearsed the song, we know it by heart and it sounds great. Put away your hipster image and you'll be fine," Zach told him.  
"But it's Britney," the guitarist whined, saying the name like it was some sort of foreign food he didn't want to taste.  
"Yeah, and she's awesome so suck it up," Amy grinned.  
"Then I want me some Stones," Jonathan countered.  
"Noted," Robert said in a neutral voice and kept scribbling down songs on the paper.

An hour and two beers later Santana was pretty happy with their outcome. Sixteen songs, all of them sing-a-long friendly and they even managed to sneak in a Katy Perry tune without Jonathan getting too grumpy.  
"I'm gonna go down to the hotel and use the wifi, see ya," Santana said before exiting the flat.

The food service was nearly done for the night when Santana plopped down on a couch in a corner. Most guests had moved to the bar or couches and the waiting staff was cleaning the tables.

"Hi Santana, how are you?"  
One of the waitresses, an asian girl named Tina, greeted Santana when she passed by.  
"Not too bad, you?  
"S'okay. Gonna go to sleep as soon as I'm finished though. I have the day off tomorrow and I want to go riding."  
"Nice." Santana tapped into the search field in Firefox and her face fell a little.  
"Gah! Don't get your hopes up Tina, apparently this shit-fest will continue until thursday," she sighed when the weather forecast showed up.  
"What, nooo!" Tina walked around to get a look at Santana's screen. "Just my luck, my only completely off day in a week and it's cloudy **and** windy."  
"I know, right," Santana agreed. "Good for us though, then people won't wanna spend the aprés outdoors."  
"You play tomorrow?" Tina asked. "How could I forget that? I'm really looking forward to it! Are you nervous?"  
"Nah, I'm fine. Probably gonna get a bit of butterflies tomorrow though," Santana answered, trying to ignore the butterfly farm already residing in her belly.

**[Tuesday, december 13:th 2011]**

The bar was crowded for a tuesday in december – most of the tables were occupied and the mandatory group of french ski instructors were leaning casually against the bar, ogling the female part of the clientele and gossiping loudly in a mix of french and english. The clock had just passed half past four, Zach and Robert were busy setting up the last couple of microphones and amplifiers on the small stage.

"Do you think they're nervous?" Quinn asked Sam and Brittany.  
"No, not Rob. I've never seen him nervous," Sam said.  
"Me neither," Brittany agreed, and it was most likely true. Robert was skilled enough to remain calm through pretty much anything. From behind his synthesizers, he was the backbone of the band.

Brittany, however was a different story.  
She had a fluttering feeling in her stomach, not necessarily nervous but.. expectant.  
Santana. Singing. Stage.  
To her that was the most heavenly combination.

"I just hope the newbies fill the shoes of the old guys," Quinn said.  
"I don't think you have to worry Q. I've talked to Amy for a bit and she seems like she knows what she's doing. And I can't imagine Santana doing something she's not sure of," Sam said.

At the sound of Santana's name, Brittany raised her head, as if the name was an alarm clock. She quickly relaxed again before attracting any weird looks from Quinn and Sam but they were oblivious.

* * *

A lone, distorted guitar sounded through the venue and the buzz from a hundred conversations faded as pretty much everyone turned their attention to the stage. Soon Jonathan was accompanied by Zach, Amy and Robert, who had swapped his synthesizer for a beaten up telecaster for this particular song.

When the lyrics was supposed to begin, a few onlookers sang along, but no singer seemed to be present. The foursome on stage was unfazed though, and just kept playing the first part of the song over again, encouraging the audience to get up from benches an chairs. Quinn, Sam and Brittany had already abandoned their stools by the bar and stood at the left side of the stage, cheering loudly.  
Then, a few rounds into the classic intro, a familiar voice sounded through the speakers and every butterfly that had ever been present in Brittany's body burst to life.

_livin' easy, lovin' free  
season ticket on a oneway ride  
askin' nothing, leave me be  
takin' everything in my stride_

And she did. In perfect sync with her brother's drumplay, Santana Lopez strode, no sashayed, from the back of the room, through the audience and onto the stage. She was clad in black from head-to-toe except for the red bandana that held part of her hair back. Every inch of her, from the high-heeled boots to the small, strong hand holding the microphone, oozed confidence.  
She had this.

She'd been audible and visible for less than thirty seconds but already had the attention of nearly everyone in the room. No introduction, no greeting of any kind, no kissing the audience's ass. The band in general and Santana in particular had decided to do this their way – start off like they were real rock stars and turn up the friendliness later in the set.  
As the AC/DC classic came to a close and cheers erupted, Robert grabbed his mic and spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, we're Dumbstruck and we hope you're up for one helluva ride."  
The ski instructors in the back cheered loudly when they recognized the french words, and seconds later Zach kickstarted _Pour Some Sugar On Me_.

* * *

I think they were seven or eight songs in when I grabbed Quinn's shoulder and yelled "I'll be right back!" before dashing out of the bar and down to our room. I kicked off my shoes right away.  
Panting I tore off my beanie, hoodie, ski pants and base layer before I grabbed a white tank top from the floor. I wasn't sure if it belonged to me or Quinn, or maybe even Sam, but I didn't give a crap. I just had to change into something cooler or I would sweat to death.  
My hair was a mess so I reluctantly put the beanie back on and stepped into my ski pants again, now with nothing but my panties under. A gulp of water later I ran up the stairs, back to the bustling bar.

If I hadn't known before, now I knew for certain. There was two very different sides of Santana Lopez.

On one hand there was the borderline shy, cautious and careful girl I had met on a foggy day on the slopes. On the other was the woman currently prancing around the stage, flirting with the entire audience while at the same time singing her heart out without missing a note. She had them wrapped around her little finger, and the only thing I could do was watch in amazement.  
That, and dance and jump around like my life depended on it. Maybe it did.

I stopped by the bar to get another beer before returning to Quinn and Sam in the melting pot closer to the stage.  
"That's what I call an upgrade," Kurt yelled in my ear when he poured the pint, probably talking about the three new members of Dumbstruck.  
I just grinned dumbly and let myself revel in the sight at the other end of the room.  
Their cover of Robyn's _Dancing On My Own_ came to an end and Santana took a swig from a water bottle.

"Are you guys up for a bit of nostalgia," Amy shouted in her mic.  
A loud "yeeeeeeeah!" sounded from the crowd.  
"Alright!" Amy beamed. "I'll let you guys in on a little secret then," she continued in a lower voice.  
"It might be hard to believe now, but back in high school, Santana and Zach were not quite as outgoing as they are now," she smirked at the Lopez siblings, Zach dripping with sweat and Santana using the short break to finally catch her breath.  
"To be honest, Zach used to be this scrawny kid carrying his heart, and cd-collection around in a messenger bag, and to make matters worse, he had this gigantic, stereotypical crush on a cheerleader," Amy giggled.  
"And in honor of my big brother's unrequited crush, we're gonna play a song about that exact thing," Santana chimed in.  
"Teenage Dirtbag, everybody!" the three boys on stage shouted and once again, the crowd went wild.

I quickly left my beer and my spot leaning by the bar behind, and pushed my way back to my friends through the pulsating mass of people. I'm pretty sure some guy spilled the remainders of a beer on my back when I tried to get past him but I didn't bother to see if it was true, I just wanted to sing along to the awkward teenager-anthem.

Half an hour later the first proper after ski of the season was over, and despite my change of clothes halfway though I was soaked in sweat. So was my roommates, and Sam and I struggled to get ahead of the other in order to hit the shower before the warm water would run out. Sadly, Sam won that fight, slamming the bathroom door shut in my face and shouting "Victory!" in a way that reminded me of Worms World Party.

I plopped down on the bunk under my own – no one slept there and we used it as a combined wardrobe and sofa.  
Quinn collapsed in a heap next to me and shut her eyes.  
"That was.. wow," she sighed. I barely nodded in response, wholeheartedly agreeing with her.  
"I can't believe they're so tight, I mean, a week ago neither Amy or Santana had joined," she continued.

I hummed approvingly and wiped my hot face with my beanie. In one day they'd managed what usually took several days and much busier weeks to accomplish. When they finally had left the stage after an energetic version of MGMT's _Kids_, every window in the restaurant had been fogged up and every windowsill, ledge and table had been filled with empty glasses and pitchers. And this was their first day.  
I imagined Mr. Schuester's pleased smirk and chuckled to myself. Then another, much more beautiful smirk took it's place in my head.

Santana.  
Yeah, they were a band, and Zach, Jonathan, Amy and Robert sure played their parts too, but Santana had been from another planet today.  
The mere thought of her on that stage, confident and blessed with a voice most girl's only could dream of made my heart beat faster. She might be a small person, physically, but as a performer she appeared to be seven feet tall and invincible, directing the crowd with a blink of her eye. Dark, burning and enhanced with smoky makeup, I bet she could bewitch anyone with those eyes within seconds. God knows she'd bewitched me.  
But then again, I had been spellbound for months now.

It stung though, because not once during one and a half hour on stage had Santana looked at me. I could only imagine how it would feel to have those burning eyes directed straight at me. All the others had acknowledged us, Robert even let Sam on stage for a short while to sing back up vocals on _Don't Stop Believing_ like he'd done a couple of times last year.

Once again the mental post-it note with the words "talk to Santana" showed up inside my brain.

"Are you okay," Quinn said.  
"Am I what," I replied, a little startled. Thinking of Santana had overtaken most of my brain capacity and I wasn't paying much attention to my talking friend.  
"Okay. With Santana. Are you gonna talk to her?"

_Oh.  
_"I guess.." I started, not knowing what to say, really. Quinn's stare urged me on and I tried to go into detail about what I meant.  
"I haven't really had any opportunity to talk to her yet. But I'm gonna. I wanna." I let out an exasperated sigh and sat up. "It's just so uncomfortable, and I don't know when to do it. I've been working shitloads and I'm not sure if walking over to her place asking for her would be such a good idea. I get the feeling she really doesn't want anyone to know about february."  
"But seriously, Jonathan and Rob must know already, at least a third of the hotel staff was here last year too, and even though you managed to keep it kind of low-key people talked after she left, you know that," Quinn reasoned.  
"I know, I know, and I don't understand what's going on but.."  
"And I think the odds of Amy or Zach being homophobic is about as big as the odds of.. I can't even find a good comparison," Quinn trailed off.  
"Yeah but,"  
"And I'm amazed your brain even works right now because that girl on stage, was hot. And I'm the one saying it, and I'm not you."

Once again my mind was filled with snapshots of Santana – old favorites like that magical afternoon spent on Mont de la Chambre along with new ones of rocker-Santana prancing around in skin-tight jeans on stage. Not to objectify or anything but wow. I couldn't help it.  
I snapped out of it when Quinn swatted my arm, laughing. I shot her an annoyed look and kicked the hoodie I'd changed out of earlier across the floor.

"It's not funny."  
"Well, it is, kind of."  
"Why? It's a huge mess and I don't know what to do,"I whined.  
"Firstly, it's funny because I've known you for a while, and most of the time you flirt casually with just about everybody that comes in your way but rarely gets attached to anyone, and now you're hopelessly stuck on this one girl, and have been for the better part of a year."  
I tried to interrupt Quinn but she shut me up with another flood of words.

"Don't even think about denying it, Britt, I was at the reunion, I comforted you, I have read the emails, you have a crush."  
I stared blankly at the pile of clothes on the floor.  
"Secondly, it's funny because she's so obviously attracted to you."  
My heart sank a little at Quinn's words.  
"No Q, she's not. She didn't even look at me today, and it seems like she's done everything in her way to avoid me since she got here."  
"Because she's scared! Come on Britt, not everyone is as brave as you are."  
"I'm not.."  
"Hush! Yes you are, You might not feel like it but when it comes to social skills – you are brave. I don't know anyone who's as openminded as you."  
"Doesn't make me feel less frustrated though.." I muttered.

"Brittany, I know you're gonna deny what I'm about to say, because I know you and you're in a denying mood right now, but Santana didn't not acknowledge you. She did. She might've been sneaky about it, but she totally did. The second you left to get changed her face fell, I saw it. She knew exactly where you were all the time, I promise. She had to, to be able to not look at you, you know," Quinn smirked. "She wants you. She might not be brave enough to admit it but she does want you. I'm sure. You."  
At the last "you", Quinn poked me in the side and I jumped away, squealing. Of course I managed to smack my head in the underside of my bunk as I tried to avoid her tickling me.

"Ouch, dammit Q, I needed those braincells," I joked. I was totally giving up on being down, sulking really wasn't my thing. Plus, Sam had turned the shower off and I wanted to hog it before Quinn did.  
"Relax Britt," my roomie slash shrink sighed as she fell back onto the lower bunk. "I'm not gonna steal your shower."

I thought about Quinn's words when I stood under the warm jet of water. Maybe she was right. I hoped so. Maybe she wasn't.  
My mind drifted into a terrible scenario where Santana was wrapped in the arms of a faceless guy and I looked on from afar. Fantasy-Santana looked over a broad shoulder and caught my eye – equal parts sadness and anger told me that she undoubtedly did this to spite me.  
No! Don't think about it. Brain, stop.  
It hurt.  
Once again my imaginary post-it showed up and I added a couple of exclamation marks to the already full piece of paper.

* * *

Mr Schuester had been ecstatic after the band's performance. You could practically see the euro-signs rolling in his eyes. The band was high on adrenaline and the second dinner was finished, Jonathan and Amy had rushed off to the supermarket to stock up on alcohol.

Tuesday nights were 70's, 80's and more recently even a bit of 90's-nights at the hotel, and according to Robert and Jonathan the nights often turned out to be epic.  
All five of them were off on tuesday night's and planned to celebrate their first gig in style.  
Not just any style.

"It's tradition," Robert exclaimed. "All the working staff and reps do it!"  
"So? I'm not gonna hit the town looking like something out of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". What if we decide to go to Peak afterwards," Santana argued. "Besides, where are we gonna find 80's clothing? It's not like brought my collection of leg-warmers, pastel sweatshirts and antique scrunchies here."  
"You have a collection of scrunchies? Where?" Zach asked, intrigued.  
"Irony, dumbass."  
"Oh."

"As much as I'd like you to actually have a scrunchie collection," Robert interfered before Santana and Zach could start an argument "the hotel has an entire closet in the basement filled with wigs and crazy clothing. Even an old speed suit, if I remember correctly." Grinning at Zach, he added "You'd look good in it."  
"Totally, I'm a Lopez. I can pull of any outfit."  
"Can you now?" Santana chimed in, eager to turn the conversation into Zach-bashing-mode. "I mean, I clearly remember when.."

"Santana!"  
"..sweater vest.."  
"Santana!"  
"..dyed your hair blonde.."  
"S, I'm warning you!"  
"..spring fling in junior high."

"SANTANA!" Zach launched himself at his younger sister, knocking both of them down on the maroon carpet. Seconds later they were engaged in a very loud tickling fight. Robert just rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom, ignoring the yelling twenty-somethings rolling around on the floor.  
When he emerged several minutes later the noise had subsided and Santana was lying spread-eagled across the carpet, trying to catch her breath. Zach leaned casually against the balcony door, a victorious smirk etched on his face.

"Zach I swear to Dumbledore, Yoda and The Primes, if you ever do that again.."  
"You what?" Amy asked when she stepped through the front door. "What's going on here?"  
"Oh, nothing," Robert told her. "Only Zach and Santana telling each other how much they love one another and simultaneously fighting over whether to get dressed up tonight or not." In a mock-whisper he added "I think Zach's winning, but don't tell Santana."

The girl in question groaned and sat up.  
"By the way Santana, _I swear to Dumbledore_? Your inner geek is totally showing. And yeah, we're getting dressed up," Amy decided, not giving Santana any chance to object.

And that's why Santana Caroline Lopez was sitting in her bunk, feet dangling and a beer in hand as the clock neared nine. She and Amy had raided the hotel's masquerade closet and Santana was currently wearing a turquoise, off the shoulder college sweatshirt with the words "A non-smoking generation" in faded yellow letters on the front. She'd silently laughed at the irony when she found the shirt – not that she was a full-time smoker, but she didn't turn down the occasional cigarette.  
Black hotpants over neon pink tights, and coral legwarmers finished her costume.

Amy had insisted they both pull their hair up in high, fluffy ponytails and had gone completely bananas with the pastel makeup that she for some reason owned. Santana felt like everything was a conspiracy against her, and had voiced that opinion. Amy just laughed at her and handed Santana a hideous necklace made of neon green plastic beads in various sizes.  
The redhead was wearing an outfit similar to Santana's – a baby blue Adidas trackjacket that was three sizes too small, green tights and purple legwarmers.

"Stop sulking and get down here Satan." The nickname had caught on pretty fast once Zach had mentioned it, but Santana didn't really mind. Rather Satan than "little S". Jonathan had earned a death-glare of epic proportions when he'd tried that one earlier in the week.  
Santana landed on the carpet with a thud and sat down on the edge of the bench, elbowing Amy to make her scoot and make room for her.  
"I'm not gonna drink the shit in the middle," Santana immediately declared.  
"Pick the right cards and you won't have to," Robert replied.

The game was an edited version of Ring of Fire, and with two kings already picked the pint in the middle was half full with a mixture of beer and cheap rosé wine. The color of the liquid spoke for itself – it would probably taste like dishwater.

"Dicks!" Amy had drawn a six and the three guys drank.  
Robert was next and drew a ten. "No drinking with your dominant hand," he said, well knowing that Santana was left-handed.  
"Lame," Zach sighed before drawing a two and ordering his little sister to drink.  
"Penalty!" Amy shouted at Santana who'd forgotten the new rule right away and was holding her bottle in her left hand.

The game went on for a while, everyone getting their fair share of drinks until there was only a handful of cards left, scattered around the pint in the middle.  
"Ooooh, never have I ever," Amy said with a pleased smirk as she drew a knight. Everybody placed one hand visible on the table and waited for Amy to ask the first question.  
"Never have I ever lived in the States."  
"Come on, that's boring, way too easy," Zach huffed before he and Santana removed a finger each. Amy shrugged, as if to say that it was an easy way of winning.  
"Never have I ever played strip poker," Robert, who was next in turn asked. Everyone except Amy removed a finger.  
"Never have I ever.. umm.. had a one-night-stand," Zach said before removing another finger along with both girls.  
"Looks like the mighty Lopezes are going down on this one," Robert observed.  
Both siblings gave him a look that said "just wait..".

"Never have I ever made out with a person of the same sex."

Suddenly, Santana's heartbeat was sky-high and she tensed up involuntarily. Desperate to look calm on the outside she studied the other's faces, keeping her hand completely still on the table.  
"What, come on guys, who hasn't?" Amy asked as she removed a finger of her own. Staring intently at first Jonathan and then Zach and Robert who all reluctantly removed fingers. Then she turned to Santana who refused to meet her gaze.  
"Seriously? Not once?"  
"Nope," Santana said, focusing on answering Amy in a calm tone, begging her cheeks to not flush and hoping that the girl wouldn't push it.  
Amy gave her a quick frown that said she didn't believe her but then let it pass.

_Alright, focus Santana. Finish this stupid game before any other questions like that comes up.  
_"Never have I ever gotten caught skinny dipping in a pool that wasn't mine."  
"Satan, you're breaking the sibling code or something, you know that," Zach said before chugging the remainder of his beer.

By the time the game was finished and Robert very gentlemanly had offered to share the mixed pint with Amy, everyone was pleasantly drunk. Santana enjoyed the buzz, it had been a while since she was drunk, and she really, really wanted to dance. She tried to shut off the small voice and the back off her head that reminded her of Brittany dancing but gave up and admitted that yeah, Brittany dancing was all kinds of hot.  
Not bothering with jackets the five of them left the apartment and walked the hundred-or-so meters to the hotel.

The Baywatch theme song could be heard even before they entered, and colorful lights were flashing inside the foggy windows.  
"Well, look at you hot people," Mercedes shouted when the gang entered the bar. Most of the staff who had the night off were gathered at the bar where Kurt was in his true element. Everyone was more or less dressed up but the slender young man who was juggling bottles of colorful spirits like no one else was undeniably the most comfortable person in the room at the moment. He was wearing a ridiculously tight v-necked t-shirt – pastel pink and bedazzled and short enough to leave at least an inch of his stomach bare – and a pair of jeans that looked just like the ones Tom Cruise rocked during his Top Gun-days. A multitude of plastic bracelets, a pair of faux jewel earrings, and a pair of purple aviators finished off his outfit.

"What are you drinking?" Kurt asked. "Long Islands? Sex on the Piste? Mai Tai? Strawberry Fields?"  
"Islands, right?" Robert's decision wasn't met with any objections and a minute later they all held pints of the drink in hand.  
"I would prefer fancier glasses," Kurt apologized "but the boss wants us to use pints. Less broken glasses that way, he says."  
No one but Kurt cared about the glasses.

After a while Santana stopped feeling uncomfortable in her clothing. Most of the people were dressed up just like her and she stayed by the bar for a while, talking to Quinn and a bunch of the other girls. Brittany was still nowhere to be seen and Santana considered asking Quinn whether the other girl would show up at all but eventually decided against it. Everything regarding Brittany felt so messy, and Santana just wanted to enjoy herself and not think so freaking much for once.

Then a familiar blonde head bobbing up and down in the dancing crowd came into view and Santana froze for a second. Quinn gave her a strange look and followed her gaze but didn't say anything about it, and shortly thereafter the butterflies were back to a more manageable level.

During a trip to the bathroom she saw two familiar persons sneaking around a corner further down the hallway. Looked like Amy and Robert finally were intoxicated enough to act on the tension that had been surrounding them for days.  
Santana tried to push the faint jealousy aside. Not that she was jealous of Amy – making out with Rob, eh no thanks – but the alcohol had sparked her longing for physical contact.  
A shudder passed through her body and she felt cold on the outside and empty on the inside. She shrugged it off and returned to the bar where Quinn, Tina and a short, dark-haired young man wearing John Lennon-glasses and some kind of kaftan were doing tequila shots.

When "I'm So Excited" came on, Quinn and Tina decided they had enough of talking and dragged Santana into the crowd. Dancing in Nike high tops had its pro's after all, her feet was very thankful. Of course the lack of heels made her disappear in the crowd a bit more, but she didn't really mind. She had gotten enough attention to last her a year, or a month at least, earlier in the day and now she tried to relax and just move to the music, not bothering with attitude or trying to look hot.

* * *

"I'll never understand how someone as clumsy as you can be such a great dancer," Jonathan yelled in my ear. He stood close enough for me to smell the Jägermeister on his breath. I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders, not even yelling a reply. I wasn't sure whether it was a compliment or not, and I didn't really care about it.  
The Pointer Sisters were on and I had better things to do than talking.  
Dancing, specifically.

I spotted Mike, and made my way over to him. I knew him from last season and we got along really well. As friends, mind you. He was the only guy who'd kept up with me in the nightclubs last winter and truthfully, I had missed dancing with him. We just fit in that way two people who share a very particular interest sometimes does. Or maybe I should say interests – he was a good skier as well.  
We fell into our old routine within seconds, mixing his signature pop-and-lock moves with steps from ballroom dances like jive and jitterbug, and regular club dancing.

_I want to love you  
feel you  
wrap myself around you_

I summoned my inner actress and pranced around Mike, giving him longing looks and barely touching him. He just laughed at me and played along, embracing the fact that our little act had made the people around us clear some space.  
The piano interlude came on and I played a furious air-synthesizer-solo while Mike went almost acrobatic next to me on the floor. Then I spotted Quinn and Tina and moved towards them. I had had the feeling that Mike was interested in Tina, so why not do a bit of subtle matchmaking?  
As Pointer Sisters faded into _Boogie Wonderland,_ Mike sent a shy smile in Tina's direction and an appreciating nod towards me.

My friends soon disappeared in the mass of people again but I didn't really care, just let my body move to whatever tune was playing. Most of the crowd was well on their way to shitfaced by now, and I danced with myself and no one else, trying to keep the more burly guys from knocking me over.  
"Watch it, asshole!"  
An angry girl's voice behind me drowned out the Bee Gee's falsetto.  
Turning on the spot I saw Santana, looking amazing in a very 80's outfit scrambling to her feet while trying to fry a drunken man in the mid-thirties to death with her eyes.  
The guy seemed unfazed and straightened his back, towering over Santana. I didn't like the sight of him one bit, but I recognized him as a hotel guest so I had to keep up the rep facade.  
"Or?" the guy simply stated, eyeing Santana in a predatory way.  
"Or I'mma go all East Harlem on your ass!"  
"I'd love to see you try, honey," the guy sneered, inching closer and putting a hand on Santana's waist. I practically saw her confidence fall and the sight of the drunk man touching her made anger flash through my veins.

Two quick steps forward and I was inside their personal space, putting my arm around Santana's shoulder.  
"There you are, San," I said in the most gleeful voice I could muster. I felt her flinch when I touched her and tried to ignore that it hurt inside when she tried to shy away and looked at me, a mix of anger, alcohol and confusion in her eyes.  
"I'm sorry to interrupt but Zach asked me to come find you. He worries about everything, doesn't he. You really have to tell you brother to stop being so over-protective," I rambled on, sending the angry man a very fake apologetic look. I quickly turned and dragged Santana with me towards the bar.

"What was that for?!" she spat when we reached a less crowded corner.  
"I'm sorry, it just looked like he was.." I tried to explain but she interrupted me.  
"I can handle my own business, thank you very much! And why did you have to use my fucking brother as an excuse, huh?"  
And with that she was gone, stomping away in the direction of the bathrooms. I remained where I stood, not knowing whether to follow her or leave her be.

* * *

At 01:30 the hotel bar closed and most of its occupants made their way down the street in a more or less unsteady fashion, destination: Peak.  
Santana was just about to say goodbye to Zach, Sam and Mercedes and head home when she saw a giggling Amy dragging Robert towards the main door of their apartment complex.  
She sighed inwardly – if she went home now she'd be the biggest cockblock in the history of ever, plus she'd probably have to fall asleep to the sound of Amy and Robert making out in the bunk below her. No thanks.  
Instead she followed the others to the basement entrance, forcing herself back into party mode. She wasn't very successful, to be honest. Everything just felt so.. off. Plus, she had snapped at Brittany when the girl just tried to get her away from that disgusting dude.  
_Great job Santana_, she congratulated herself. _First time you talk to her in days and you yell at her._

The whole awkwardness that came to Santana whenever she was around Brittany had gotten to her. Deep down Santana knew that what she really wanted was to talk to the girl, apologize and maybe someday even carry on where they left things. Before the stupid email, cold feet and months of regret and thinking that she'd never see Brittany again.  
Seeing Brittany dancing with that Mike guy had hurt, and she had wanted to punch Jonathan in the face for trying to flirt with Brittany earlier. Santana just wanted to rewind to the blissful days last winter where nothing mattered and everything was bright and shiny.

Problem was Santana had no idea where to begin. She'd contemplated talking with Amy but there was something about admitting that she liked Brittany out loud that had Santana's courage running for the hills. Should she just wait and hope that they would stop being so uncomfortable around each other over time, or should she try and talk to Brittany as soon as possible – sober, of course. She didn't know.  
And right now, she was sick of feeling, altogether.

"Hey, 'Cedes! Grab the guys, we're doing shots," Santana yelled and elbowed her way to one of the bars.  
"Four Jäger and four tequila," she shouted to the bartender, not sure whether she was heard over the loud music.  
"Nice to see you Santana," Puck grinned as he lined up the shot glasses. "Heard you almost caused a sex riot earlier today."  
"Yeah, well, I can't help that I'm hot," she winked, hoping Puck would keep his mouth shut about Brittany if she flirted a bit.  
"Whoa, Satan, are you mad girl?" Mercedes gasped when she saw the line of shots.  
"Nah, just wants to get my dance on," Santana smirked and waited for Zach and Sam to join them before downing one shot of each kind without interruption.

* * *

It felt like someone had connected the bass of the music directly to her heartbeat and if she turned her head too fast everything moved in blurry slow-motion. She knew Zach and Mercedes was nearby, and she was dancing close, close to Sam, silently relieved that that's all they were doing. Santana was drunk to the point that if a guy she knew and liked even the slightest bit would get handsy, she'd probably push him up against a wall sooner than later. Just because.  
Nothing wrong with a little intimacy, right?

The club was ridiculously crowded and people were pushing into each other all the time but Sam was there like a blonde lighthouse, keeping Santana on the right course. She felt someone's back push into her from behind and she lost her step for a moment but didn't even care, just kept dancing goofily with Sam.  
Then the person behind her turned around, and Santana stiffened instantly. Whoever it was was definitely not a guy.  
Her pulse quickened and she instinctively moved closer to Sam who seemed unfazed, but the person behind her followed and put her hands on Santana's hips.  
Santana pushed the hands away and turned around, ready to explain the term "unwanted attention" to her offender.

Needless to say, she didn't get very far.  
Brittany's crystal blue's lit up every cell in Santana's body and erased all her drunken haze. It wasn't more than a moment, but one of complete clarity. Santana stood frozen, lips slightly parted and heart thumping.  
Then Brittany put a hand back on Santana's hip and they started to move to the beat again, rest of the world forgotten.  
"I'm sorry about before," Brittany whispered, and Santana couldn't for the love of Merlin remember what Brittany might be sorry for.

Something Santana did remember was what a great dancer Brittany was, even though a small part of her wished that she hadn't. Right now however, that part was silenced by the soft hand caressing the small of Santana's back. She let the blonde take control and lost herself in everything Brittany. A faint smell of hairspray and perfume, soft golden locks and a lithe body moving so, so close to hers. Santana's blood was burning and nothing mattered but Brittany.  
All too soon their bubble burst.

Zach tapped his sister's shoulder. "Brittany, Satan – after party in our place!"  
Santana snapped out of her Brittany-induced haze and shook her head lightly, trying to focus on her brother's face. "What? Noo, Rob and Amy have a sexathon," she protested.  
Zach shook his head and held up his cell phone.

**_lovebirds are decent_**  
**_we can continue here_**  
**_J_**

By the time Brittany and Santana had elbowed their way out of the club and walked the few meters home, Santana's apartment was filled with known and unknown faces. So many faces. For a brief second she panicked but then she remembered that her laptop and camera equipment were laying under all her clothes in the back of her closet.

"Pizza?" a unusually relaxed Quinn asked when they stepped through the door. Santana grabbed a slice immediately and started to look for somewhere to sit. There were people everywhere.  
"Come on," Santana said and grabbed Brittany's hand. "You're nice so I'll let you sit in my bunk," she explained while pushing their way to the innermost bunkbed.  
She kicked off her sneakers before climbing the narrow ladder and falling headfirst into her bed, Brittany following the second after.

Santana's world was spinning, and she couldn't figure out if it was due to the alcohol, the girl lying half on top of her or a combination of both. She cleared her throat and tried to sit upright, which was kind of hard since Brittany was everything but cooperating.  
Brittany's arm was wrapped around Santana's waist and she leaned her head on the shorter girl's shoulder, wild blonde locks spread like a lion's mane around her.

"Brittany, come on, sit up," Santana demanded half-heartedly.  
"Why? I'm comfortable," Brittany questioned, propping herself up on her right elbow and gazing down at Santana with impossibly blue eyes.  
Santana swallowed, who knew breathing calmly could be so difficult?  
"Because.." she couldn't think of a good enough reason, but kept struggling to sit up properly.  
"I've missed you," Brittany said softly, and in that brutally honest way that only seems to exist after one too may drinks. Despite her obvious intoxication her eyes stayed fixed on Santana's and it was like falling, flying, disappearing.  
"I, I.."  
"I've missed you so much," Brittany repeated, and Santana was still at a loss of words. A part of her tried to pay attention to the fact that they were in an apartment the size of a wardrobe, lying in a bed the size of a matchbox, and with at least twenty persons only meters away, most of them currently chanting along to David Guetta's latest club anthem.  
Most of her couldn't care less about those details.

Brittany – sweet, beautiful, kind, perfect Brittany – was lying next to her with her arm wrapped around Santana, looking at her like she was the most precoius thing in the world and said that she'd missed her.  
It took everything in Santana's being to not close the small gap between them and kiss her. Instead they just laid still in their bubble, never losing eye contact.

Brittany absentmindedly reached out and stroked Santana's cheek, and once again she felt her entire body being drawn closer to Brittany like she was a magnet of some sort.

Inches.  
Inches from Brittany's soft, pink lips.  
Inches from the girl she mere days ago thought she'd never meet again, never speak to again, never kiss again.  
Inches. Seconds.  
She saw Brittany's eyes close and almost felt her eyelashes on her cheek. Santana was nothing now. Nothing but a beating heart and electricity.

And then a wolf-whistle.  
A loud voice she knew all too well.  
Jonathan was standing on a chair over by the table, his arm pointing right at Santana. All of a sudden she heard voices again. Words. Music. It hurt.  
Brittany had sat up when Jonathan whistled, confused blue eyes seeking Santana's who now avoided her gaze like the plague.  
So many voices mixed together in a taunting, drunken mess.

"..girl on girl action.."  
"..Zach I had no idea your sister was gay.."  
"..super hot!"  
"..wasn't there a rumor last year..?"  
"..did they kiss.."  
"..nice work Santana!"

It was too much.  
Without looking anyone in the eye Santana flung herself out of the bed, pushed her way through the narrow hallway and slammed the door shut behind her.

* * *

"Santana, it's not like we're gonna be able to avoid each other completely. We work at the same place," I tried, only to be snapped at by the fuming girl pacing in front of me in the corridor.  
"No?" Santana questioned. "I'm sure as hell gonna try!"  
She slammed her fist into the concrete wall, making me wince at the muted thud.

"San, please don't hurt yourself like that, just stop."  
I tried to reach out for her hand but she backed away from me.  
Santana glared at me with eyes narrowed in anger for what felt like minutes. When she finally spoke her voice was barely audible, not more than a whisper.

"You don't get it, do you Brittany?" Santana hissed. "Not everything is fluffy snowballs and unicorns, so please just forget what happened last winter and move on. That's what I'm gonna do."  
Her voice was trembling now, her fists clenched in frustration. This was so not how I had wanted this to go, I had lost my footing and had no idea where this would end up.

The muted music from inside the apartment suddenly turned loud and Quinn entered the hallway.  
"Oh god, I'm sorry," she stammered and immediately turned back, shutting the door behind her.

Santana fixed her eyes upon me again, and slowly, cautiously stepped closer. I tried to back away but ended up with my back against the rough wall. The mood changed constantly, like a flickering lightbulb.

"What are you so afraid of, Santana?" I asked, searching those brown eyes for any hint of the girl I'd met last winter, the girl who had laid next to me on a bed just a couple of minutes ago causing my heart to leap amok. I didn't find her though, only fear, anger and alcohol met my gaze.

Santana dragged her hands through her hair, let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at the ceiling before she spoke.  
"I have no idea. It's just.. I can't do this. It's too much, I can't.." her voice trailed off and tears were threatening to break free.

I was speechless. I'm not stupid, I know that few people share my carefree view of life and love, but for Santana to give up on something that hadn't even started? I wasn't expecting that.

"Santana, please," I tried and put my right hand on Santana's upper arm only to have it shrugged away instantly.  
"I'm, I'm sorry," Santana whispered, tears still threatening to fall down her face.  
I swallowed thickly and was about to turn and walk back into the on-going party when a small but strong hand grasped mine.

Next thing I knew I was being pressed up against the rough concrete wall, Santana kissing me as if her life depended on it.  
My heart went off at lightning speed, seriously trying to beat its way out of my chest. My arms hung useless to my sides for a couple of seconds as all my senses went into overload. Then I realized what was going on.  
Santana Lopez was kissing me like there was no tomorrow, and I slowly closed my eyes and decided to just go with it.

I put my hands at the small of Santana's back, pulling her closer to me. Santana's hands were tangled in my hair, playing with it, and that sensation combined with her body pressed so close to mine caused me to shiver.

I'd expected her to kiss me aggressively, with frustration and pain, but I felt none of that. Her lips were softer than ever, telling me a completely different story than her previous words. Her tongue swept so, so lightly against my bottom lip and I couldn't have held back a moan even if I tried.  
Santana didn't hesitate to sneak the tip of her tongue into my mouth and when our tongues met, my knees almost buckled with want.

My entire body was on fire, our hips pressed together, my hands roaming over Santana's back and waist, and sneaking down to toy with the hem of her turquoise sweatshirt.  
But just as sudden as she had pinned me to the wall, Santana pulled away, panting. She looked down, then covered her face in her hands and dragged one hand through her hair.  
When she spoke her voice was cracked and a stray tear was making its way down her flushed cheek. I had to put her hands behind my back to resist the urge to wipe the tear away.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Santana gasped without looking at me, and with those words she fled, disappearing down the staircase.

I didn't chase after her, my body wasn't functioning anymore. I simply slid down against the wall, burying my head between my knees, letting long hair fall in front of my face, sheltering me from the world.  
Hot tears was burning in the corners of my eyes and no matter how hard I tried, when I heard the staircase door slam shut, I couldn't keep them from falling.

* * *

**Sorry to leave this on a cliffhanger but the chapter was nearing 10,000 words and well..  
:D**


	8. Communication

**Author's Note: I'm totally blaming school and writer's block for my absence, but now I'm planning my ski trips for the winter and feel inspired again so..**

* * *

******8. Communication**

**[Wednesday, december 14:th 2011]**

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The same word had been repeating itself in Santana's brain for hours, pounding along with her hangover, and neither was going to stop anytime soon. Her head felt like it was going to crack open, her throat was dry and her body limp with exhaustion.  
She unstrapped her feet from the board and bent down to grab it and lean it against the ski rack. The nausea hit her like a rock to the head when she rose to quickly and she gasped, forcing back the urge to throw up. Carefully, she straightened and walked into the bright fluorescent lights of the picnic room.

Vending machine.  
Water.  
Or anything to drink, really.

Her brain was alternating between monosyllabic thoughts and endless incoherent rants and she couldn't decide which was the worst. She put a two euro-coin in and pushed number three and number seven, tapping her foot impatiently as the water bottle slowly moved towards the edge.

_Clank!_

She hesitated before she bent down to open the slot and grab the bottle – her body wasn't exactly a fan of sudden movements today, she moved slowly to keep the nausea at bay.

The picnic room was completely empty, and way too bright for Santana's liking. No one was around to laugh at her miserable state so she pulled her goggles back down to fight off the light.  
She trotted across the room in that bouncy way you do when you walk in snowboard boots, and flopped down on a wooden bench that had one of it's edges pushed against the wall.

Back rest.  
Needed.  
This was a bad, bad day.

Luckily for Santana it was only 10:30 and she had another six hours or so before she had to function properly.  
Six hours didn't feel very much though. Six days would have been preferable. Or six weeks. Anything.

She unclasped her helmet strap and untied her boots, zipped her jacket open and slid down until she laid with her back flat on the narrow pine wood bench.  
The word stupid fluttered through her brain again.  
How was she going to be able to drink lying down like this without spilling all over herself?  
With a deep sigh, Santana pushed herself back up and drank half the water bottle in one go.  
Then she focused on self pity.

Everything happened so fast. Ironic. Years could pass in a pretty uneventful way and then, bam, the world was turned upside down in less than twelve hours.  
Twelve hours ago she'd been in the apartment, getting drunk with Amy and the guys.  
Ten hours ago she'd been cornered by that awful dude at the hotel.  
(She felt a sting of shame when she remembered how she'd snapped at Brittany for helping her out.)  
Eight hours ago.. dancing with Brittany. A warm feeling spread from Santana's stomach up her back and down her legs when she replayed the feeling of Brittany's hands touching her gently, her strong body moving close, close.

She clenched her fists, the plastic water bottle rustling when she squeezed it too hard.  
Why did she have to feel this way?  
It was only seven hours ago that everything broke, if something that already felt broken could break again without having been fixed in between. Seven immeasurably long hours.

She could still feel Brittany's heartbeat, tucked away in her memory like a cursed treasure. Santana wondered if she'd ever wanted anything, anyone more.  
But she wasn't brave. Despite her thick walls that sheltered her in everyday life, the haphazard words last night had gotten under her skin.

_"..is she gay?"_  
_"..I saw them dancing, I thought it was for show."_  
_"..rumor last winter.."_  
_"..kissing.."_  
_"..so hot!"_

Was she gay? Santana wasn't sure, she'd never thought about it like that. She had however thought about numerous scenarios in which she and Brittany would be in various states of undress, and as much as she wanted to be able to deny it, she enjoyed those thoughts. A lot.  
Maybe she was bisexual, or pansexual or whatever the name was nowadays. There was simply too many labels, Santana decided.

She pushed the thought of a naked Brittany on crumpled sheets in pale morning light away, if not for any other reason so for to calm her rapidly increasing heartbeat.  
Back to wallowing in self pity.

The girl thing wasn't the problem, it really wasn't. Unless she thought too much about maybe, someday in a very distant future, sleeping with a girl and not knowing what to do, but that's not the point.

The problem was the smile that crept onto Santana's face without her notice whenever she thought about Brittany. Even now, hungover, ashamed and miserable, Santana felt the corners of her mouth twitch when she remembered the brief moment in her bed last night.

"_I've missed you so much."_

The soft voice, the adorable pout. Pure terror. The unstoppable fluttering joy in her belly when she was the reason Brittany smiled. The cold feeling when she recalled exactly how long it had been since she'd made Brittany laugh.  
The problem was that to Santana – falling in love was the most terrifying thing in the world. To bare her soul to someone and risk getting her heart broken. Whether the person in question was called Brittany or Bryan was a less significant detail.  
Santana laid down on the bench again and looked out the window without really seeing anything. She was tired, so tired, running on barely four hours of sleep.

She didn't run away last night. After the staircase door slammed shut behind her she'd walked upwards instead, sitting in a curled up ball on the topmost stair above the seventh floor until she figured everyone must have left.  
She'd had no idea whether anyone was looking for her but when she finally walked back down, her four room mates were fast asleep in an apartment that looked like a hurricane had passed through it.

It hurt.

Even when she'd found her cell phone and had five missed calls, one each from Amy, Zach, Quinn and Sam, and one unknown number, along with texts from Amy and Quinn, it hurt.  
No one had shouted her name in the hallways. No one had bothered looking for her upstairs.  
Santana felt every kind of miserable.

_**03:32 Quinn:**_  
_**what happened?**_  
_**where are you?**_

_**03:44 Amy:**_  
_**q said u r upset**_  
_**where r u?**_  
_**call me plz**_

_**03:58 Quinn:**_  
_**santana can you please**_  
_**come back whats going**_  
_**on britt is a mess where**_  
_**are you?!**_

_**04:03 Quinn:**_  
_**i have to get her to bed**_  
_**but im worried**_  
_**i told amy to go looking**_  
_**if you're not back in 30.**_

But everyone had been asleep when Santana came home. She'd sent a short text to make sure Quinn didn't send out the gendarmerie to search for her and then she'd curled up in the corner of her bed, burying her tearstained face in the pillow.  
Everyone was still asleep when Santana left again.

Her alarm went off at 08:30 and despite her pounding headache and empty stomach Santana quickly got dressed for the slopes. The weather was gloomier than ever, but she had to do something. Anything. Anything that wasn't lying in bed rewinding last night over and over again.

She hadn't walked up to the hotel for breakfast, at the hotel were too many people she didn't want to meet. Instead she'd walked down the street to a bakery where she bought two pain chocolats and a can of Orangina. Hangover alpine breakfast 101.

It was kind of hopeless. A lot of the ski lifts were closed due to hard wind higher up on the ridges, and where the slopes was open, the visibility was less like sight and more like porridge. Still Santana kept riding, forced her aching body to bend and push and try to dodge the bumps on the slopes as good as possible.  
It was soothing, in a weird exhausting way. And she had nowhere else to go, at least nowhere she wanted to go.  
Part of her felt childishly ashamed of herself for feeling the way she did, but she wasn't ready to face her friends. Their considerate faces and comforting hands on her shoulders, she couldn't take it. She would feel so weak.

So here she was, alone in a plain room, waiting for the remnants of her hangover to fade away and wishing that it would take some of her angst with it too.  
She'd have to go back in a few hours, she just wanted to let enough time to pass for her to dodge any kinds of conversation.

Two boys, maybe ten or eleven years old stumbled through the door, nearly losing their balance when slippery ski boots stepped on hard floor tiles. They wore the local ski club's bright blue jackets and Santana briefly wished she'd grown up here too, with nothing but mountains and outdoorsy stuff to care about.

But then again, she'd probably get bored if she'd lived with it her whole life.

* * *

I never thought I'd be glad to not have to go skiing. I guess today was the exception.  
Quinn had found me in the hallway, I don't know how long after Santana had left. Probably not very long.  
The details after she ran away are kind of blurry, but at least I woke up in my own bed this morning, with a faint headache accompanied by puffy eyes and a empty hole inside of me.

Everything had gone so hopelessly wrong. One second I'm pushed up against the wall by the girl I'd spent the whole summer trying to forget and the next she runs away, leaving me with nothing but a madly beating heart and "I'm sorry, I can't" echoing against the rough walls.

"You look like you have the flu," Sam said quietly when I brushed my teeth. "Maybe we could say you have the flu so you can have the day of," he added kindly.

"Mnyjmhff-gnnt-fff't-h," I said, my mouth filled with peppermint foam.

"Totally," Sam deadpanned.

I spat out the foam and rinsed my mouth before I spoke again.  
"It's nice of you but you don't have too lie for me," I said, horrified at how weak and frail I sounded.

"You sure?" he asked with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks though."

In the end I got the day off anyway – the continuously crappy weather meant a lot of guests spent their day in the village rather than on the slopes, and Sam and Quinn **insisted** that I had the day off and that they could manage. One of them, I'm not sure who, must've said something to Schuester about my "flu" because he ordered me back to my room faster than you can say "cough syrup", and before Quinn left she came down with a thermos of hot chocolate, a packet of throat pastilles and a box of tissues.  
I just raised an eyebrow at her and she disappeared with a guilty look on her face.

Looking out the window and seeing nothing but a grey mass of.. well, whatever fog is made of, water-molecules and fluff? Anyway, I changed back into my sweatpants and browsed through the movies and series on my laptop.  
I was tempted to re-watch Up, but decided against it. I wasn't sure how much more tears I had left.  
Eventually I spent the entire day re-acquainting myself with Middle Earth. Hobbits turned out to be a pretty decent distraction from my aching heart.

Frodo was wrapped in slimy spider webbing when Sam opened the door. He didn't say anything, just took off his outerwear and scooted in next to me on the sofa-bunk. I let out a sad sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder.  
"Frodo is one of the saddest characters I know," I mumbled. "He gives up everything and we never gets to know if he has a happy ending. Who knows what the Grey Havens are like."

"They have to be good, come on, the elves go there," Sam said and I shrugged in response, not wanting to trigger his inner geek too much. That would just end with him going on about how I "have to read Silmarillion, it's Tolkien's greatest work". Pfft, as if. Silmarillion is a sleeping pill. Everybody knows that The Hobbit is the best.

"Well, it can't be too bad, or I'd find you halfway through Up. Or Titanic," Sam said and engulfed me in a hug just as Frodo was released from his spiderweb straitjacket.

"Trust me, I considered them."

I must have drifted off to sleep again, because next thing I know I'm alone and there's a frozen image of the battle of Minas Tirith on my computer screen. Sam probably paused it before he left.  
I hear a muted thudding and realize the aprés must be underway.

* * *

"I don't wanna talk." Santana's voice was calm and without emotions and no one dared to question her. She untied her boots, hanged her jacket and pants to dry over one of the wobbly chairs and went straight to the bathroom.  
Hot water rinsed off the last traces of the hangover and soothed her tired and aching limbs. When she stepped into the main room again, no one even tried to talk to her. She set the alarm on 16:00 and crawled under her duvet.

_The others were ahead of her, already more than halfway up the ridge.  
_"_Come on, San!" Zach shouted. Easy for him to do. He was stronger than her and his longer legs was an advantage in the deep snow.  
_"_Don't mess with the person who carries the camera, bro," Santana replied. The thin air was definitely getting to her and when she reached the ridge she collapsed in the snow, panting.  
_"_This is awesome," Puck said, looking down the slope. Only there was no slope. The snow had vanished and the mountainsides were covered with soft grass. Santana spun around and realized that everyone but her was wearing summer's clothes now._

_It was warm. Too warm. And where did the snow go?  
_"_It's your turn now," Quinn told her, gesturing towards a water slide that had appeared out of nowhere. The plastic tube laid like a bright blue snake all the way down to a small lake on the plain below them. Santana saw tiny people splashing in the undoubtedly freezing water. Glacier water never gets warm, not even in the middle of summer. Was it summer? This was so confusing.  
_"_I can't," Santana protested.  
_"_Why not?"  
_"_I, my.. backpack. My camera. And my clothes, look I can't go swimming in this, I'll drown,"she said and gestured to her red jacket.  
_"_No you won't," Quinn pushed.  
_"_Whatever," a male voice said and before Santana could stop them, first Jonathan and then Puck pushed past her and threw themselves down the blue slide.  
_"_You have to take risks, Santana," Quinn stated calmly.  
Santana just stared at her, confused not even beginning to describe how she felt._

The confusion remained even after she woke up. She felt better physically, headache and nausea almost gone, but on the other hand her brain was like jello.  
She threw on the same clothes she had worn yesterday and followed the others up to the hotel, dreading the moment she'd have to face Brittany.  
Her worry was unnecessary.

Brittany was nowhere to be seen. Quinn and Sam jumped around like two smurfs in their blue clothes but the third blonde rep was missing. Santana wasn't sure of how she felt about that. Sure, it made her job a lot easier, singing upbeat party anthems with Brittany in the crowd wasn't something she had looked forward to, but not seeing her felt bad as well.

Santana did what she should, but unlike yesterday it was a chore. The audience cheered, the bartenders were busy and the windows fogged up but her heart wasn't in it. She hoped no one noticed, and judging from the mosh pit that formed during _Seven Nation Army, _she must've done something right.

_Focus on your job, Santana. That's what you do best_ she told herself as the set came to an end.

As soon as the stage was cleared she snuck away. Staff dinner with all the others was so not on her schedule for the night.  
The fog was even thicker than before when she stepped outside, giving the street an eerie glow. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Santana walked past her apartment building with determined steps, and entered a basement maybe a hundred meters further down the streets.

"Don't," she told Noah before he could say anything. "I need to drink, and I don't wanna drink at home because sooner than later the others will come home and I don't wanna talk."

"Fine by me," he replied and put two shot glasses on the counter, eyeing Santana curiously as she sat down on the stool opposite him.

"Tequila?" he added in a softer voice.

"It works."

They downed a shot each, Santana shivering when the liquor burned its way down her throat. It didn't chase away the empty feeling inside her, but at least it distracted her for a while.  
Then Puck poured a pint for Santana and a demi for himself, earning a silent nod as a thanks. Peak was empty at this hour and mainstream rock was playing on low volume. Only a few people were scattered in the booths lining one of the walls and Puck let Santana be, busying himself with preparations for later.

"She's here alone?"  
Mike entered the bar, putting the liquor bottles he'd been carrying on the counter as he turned to Puck.

"Yep."

"Is she alright?"

"Don't think so, it's seven o'clock and she's knocking back tequila."

"Where are her friends?"

"Dunno. She said she wanted to drink and not talk. Don't worry, I keep an eye on her," Puck said and looked at Santana. The girl was sitting uncomfortably straight on her stool, a little more than halfway through her pint. Her eyes were fixed on the counter.  
Mike gave Puck a look that said _I don't understand this_ and walked back to the storage.

Fifteen minutes later Santana asked Puck for another shot, downed it and paid.  
Then she turned on the spot and left.

* * *

"You feeling better Brittany?"

"Yeah, I guess. I hope I've slept it off," I said, faking a sore throat and trying to look more tired than I was. Quinn and Sam's flu-story had apparently caught on and I didn't really mind it.  
And I hoped I had slept it off, even though I'm unsure if you can cure sadness like you cure a cold.

"At least you picked a good day to stay in bed," Tina sighed. "Today was worthless. I couldn't see shit."

"Yeah, Sam told me."

I pushed the pasta carbonara around on my plate haphazardly, not really in a talking or eating mood. It's not very like me, usually I'm the first to get a second helping but today I had to force myself to swallow.

"Bacon!" Zach exclaimed with a smile that reminded me way too much of his sister. My throat tightened and I looked down again as the rest of his bandmates followed him into the staff dining room, queuing up to get food.  
I didn't have the courage to look up, I just couldn't. I didn't wanna see her confused, sad, apologetic or whichever mood she'd be in, so I just stared at the soggy mess of pasta, cream and bacon on my plate.

"Hey, where did Satan go?" I heard Zach say over the many conversations in the room. A bunch of "dunno's" and "no idea's" were heard and my heart felt heavier and lighter at the same time before taking a definitive plunge when my imagination went off.  
What if she's upset? What if she's alone somewhere with no-one to talk to? I know it's not my place, but I care about her and the thought of her feeling bad has me feeling bad too.

* * *

**[Saturday, december 17:th 2011]**

"No, Santana. I'm not buying this shit. I'm not. You've been sulky and weird the entire week and you're gonna talk about it. Now."

"There's nothing to talk about!"

"Fine, we don't talk now. But next time I'll bring this up will be in front of the guys, or at the hotel."

Santana huffed and glared at Amy with a _you wouldn't-_look in her eyes. Amy simply nodded as if to say _yeah, I would_.

"I hate you," Santana mumbled, looking in the other direction.

"No worries, I'll live."

It was saturday, the only day of the week that they were completely off, and Amy had insisted that she and Santana should go boarding on their own, mouthing "girl talk" to the boys when Santana wasn't looking as an excuse to go just the two of them. Since everybody had been victims of Santana's foul mood during the week, no one protested.  
They sat in a excruciatingly slow chairlift in a remote part of the ski area, and Amy knew she had Santana trapped for a good ten minutes.

"You want me to tell you what I think?" Amy continued.

"Not really."

"If you don't tell me what's wrong I will speculate. It's your choice, really."

Amy knew Santana rolled her eyes behind her goggles, and she saw her swallow slowly.  
"It's a long story.."

"We have time. Or you can shorten it, honestly Santana I don't care. I just want you to talk about what's bothering you before someone says or does something that will make you explode."

Santana was quiet for a while, the only thing heard was the faint creaking of the lift wire and a lone crow passing high above them.  
She was unsure of where to begin but knew Amy wouldn't rest her case until she said _something_.  
"I was here last winter, with mom and papi.." she began.

"Yeah, I know," Amy interjected but fell silent again.

"..and it was nice, you know. Snowboarding, nice food, just a break from the studies and stuff. But apart from the snowboarding it was nothing special, I mean, I was here with my parents."

Amy nodded to keep her going, pretty sure of what would come next.

"And on the fifth day papi and I were out skiing with a group of guests, and the reps, and the weather turned really shitty and I can't board when it's foggy like that.. it's like I get sea-sick."

Amy had to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling Santana to skip the weather report, and nodded again. "Mhmm, and?" she added for good measure.

"And I was struggling and lagging behind and Brittany kept me company, and once the sky cleared up we went off on our own, and she showed me her favorite slopes and, umm.. I-might-have-bought-her-drinks-and-danced-with-her-all-night," Santana finished with a rush.

"Oookay. I have a feeling I know where this is going."

"And the next day we bumped in to each other again, literally, and we stayed on the mountain til after the lifts closed and.. she kissed me. And I kissed back, and well.. that's the short version anyway."

"I'm gonna assume you guys didn't stay in touch..?"

"No, I.. we.. I snuck into her room the night before I was leaving. Nothing happened though, we just slept, and we kissed at the airport and kept sort of in touch for a while but I told her it was too hard so we stopped."

Santana looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin where she sat, and Amy couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Before the lift ride was over she'd gotten a quick recap up until present day and by then, Amy definitely understood why Santana had been so skittish and moody since they arrived in France.  
Halfway down the slope Amy stopped, and Santana glided over to her.

"Let's take a break, okay? We can go over there," Amy pointed at a section of rocks maybe twenty meters away from the slope.

Once there she sat down, grabbed a bottle of water and two Snickers from her backpack and gave one to Santana, who got the hint. She could talk here, no one would hear them, and they'd see if anyone came near.

"Have you ever been with a girl before?" Amy asked cautiously.

Santana shook her head and looked at the mountains on the other side of the valley.

"Has she?"

"I don't know," Santana said, her voice cracking. Hot tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to fall. She removed her goggles and tried to rub them away with her mittens.

"Heeey, ssh, it's okay," Amy tried, patting Santana's helmet.

"No, really, it's not."

Santana struggled to keep her voice steady but it was as if Amy's questions cracked open the door to a vault full of confusion and feelings and no matter how hard Santana tried, she couldn't keep her emotions at bay any longer.  
She looked at Amy with teary eyes, squinting in the bright light that was magnified because of the snow.

"It's not because she's a girl," Santana began, "well, not entirely. I've never met anyone like her, never, it's like she's a magnet, I'm just drawn to her, you know. It's scary as hell and after I left I thought I'd never see her again so I tried to let everything go, and then this job came along and shit happened so fast and all of a sudden we were face-to-face again and I can't think. I need to think!"

She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, heavy sobs ripping through her body.  
Amy turned slightly and put her arms around her crying friend, stroking her back soothingly. After a while, Santana calmed down, her sobs turned into exhausted sniffles.

"Sorry," she hiccupped, "didn't mean to spring all this on you. I guess I needed to get it out."

An apologetic smile crept onto her face and Amy hugged her again.

"Yeah, I think you needed to talk. Keeping stuff like this bottled up never does any good."

"Thanks for ehmm.. forcing me."

"You're welcome," Amy said and started rumbling through her backpack.

"Aha, here!" She handed Santana a pack of tissues with a victorious grin.

"Is there anything you don't have in there?" Santana chuckled as she wiped her tears away.

"Hmm.. space shuttles and a keg."

"Dork."

"Thank you."

The girls stayed on the sunny rock for a while, finishing their Snickers and talking about random stuff. Santana took her chance to interrogate Amy about her not-so-secret thing with Robert.

"He's cute and all but it's nothing serious."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why? Oh my god, is there someone else?!"

"Santana!" Amy sat up straight and glared at her smirking friend. "No, it's not! But we're on a season."

"And?"

"Satan, are you completely clueless? Season. Season equals doing what you want, when you want. At the moment I'm with Rob. I like him, he's sweet, but it's not like I'm looking for a boyfriend. It's casual."

"You sure you don't mean doing _who_ you want," Santana laughed.

Amy pushed her in a friendly way. "God, get your mind out of the gutter Lopez, it's not like that, it's just.. casual."

Santana huffed. "So you say. But you wouldn't be pissed if he hooked up with someone else tomorrow then?"

"I don't know, maybe a little.. no I don't think I would."

"Hmm. I get you and don't get you at the same time, I think."

"Like how?"

"Like I totally get the whole _nothing serious_ thing. I just can't see myself doing it. I've had my fair share of casual, drunken and/or meaningless hook-ups. If I'm gonna be with someone now it's either all or nothing." Santana's gaze was fixed on thin air and she flinched a little when she realized what she'd said.

Amy shifted to look at her properly. "Someone as in Brittany?"

Santana kept looking emptily at the sky.

"Sorry, too soon," Amy apologized.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. It's just a lot of stuff in my head right now. But I'll tell you if I need to talk about it, okay?"

"Obi-Wan has taught you well."

"Dork."

* * *

Quinn and I was sitting in our usual corner at the airport diner, once again spending the time in between flights with coffee and small-talk. This was the downside of the job, spending every saturday on buses and at a crowded airport where the price of a single cup of coffee could feed a family in Africa for months.  
Getting on the bus surrounded by blue sky and a dusting of fresh snow sucked, there was no other way to put it.

Quinn was reading a newspaper in french that someone had left behind and I was doodling on my napkin.  
"Fifty-eight minutes left," I said, counting down the minutes until we had to be back at the arrival gate.

"Time's not passing any faster just because you mention it every three minutes, B." Quinn folded up the newspaper and put it on the table next to ours and gave me a look that made me feel like I was her younger sister.

"Sorry."

"Never mind."

I was ridiculously bored. I had wanted to go for a walk but the light drizzle outside had me second-thinking that, and I had practically no battery left in my DS or iPod.

"It passed fast this week though," I thought out loud.

"What did?" Quinn asked.

"Time."

"Hmm, yeah I suppose. Mellow week. It's gonna be more now."

She was right. We left 35 guests earlier today and were going back with two full buses.

"Yeah. But it's weird how quick time moves. This time a week ago it hadn't even begun yet."

Quinn mumbled in approval and finished her coffee. Then I felt her studying me.  
I looked up, a question in my eyes.

"You're thinking of Santana, aren't you?"

I knew better than to deny it and nodded a little.

"What's going on there anyway? Have you guys even talked since tuesday?"

My heart sank as I thought back to a few days earlier. "No, we haven't, and it's not like we talked before tuesday either," I sighed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong now but what's happened so far is that you pretty much avoid each other for four days.."

"She avoids me. I'm not avoiding!"

"Whatever, and then everybody gets drunk, you dance, you cuddle in her bed and almost kiss, Jonathan makes sure everybody notices, she freaks out, you argue, she kisses you, she takes off and you both go back to ignoring each other's existence?"

"Pretty much."

Quinn gave me a stern look before speaking again. "B, I'm sorry, but if you wanna have a civil relationship with her you have to talk to her again. Sober."

"Don't you think I know that? What am I supposed to do, she avoids me like the plague!"

"Yeah, I've kinda noticed. I don't know B, we'll figure something out. But you like her, right?"

"Of course I do," I almost yelled.

"Sorry, just checking."

"I like her."

"You just said that."

"Yeah, I know," I frowned. "Shit, I **like** her like her. Even though she's a grumpy bitch and acts like she loathes me at the moment." I smacked my head against the cool surface of the table.

"Hate to break it to you B, but it's pretty obvious."

I hummed, not quite registering what Quinn said. I like Santana. Like her so much that I was happy just being around her. This was no good. No, wait it was. Wasn't it?

Confusion.

Luckily I had a three and a half-hour bus ride ahead of me when I could think about it.

* * *

**Okay, so I know it's going a bit slow at the moment, and the Brittany/Santana interactions were, ehm.. zero.. but the Santana/Amy talk was needed and I really wanted to write the part in the beginning when Santana is alone. But unless I erase what I've written so far of the next chapter they will talk. :) Sober talk. (Yay!) I'm thinking about writing shorter chapters too, maybe that will help me to update more often but I'm not sure.. I kinda like long chapter-stories. What do you guys think?**


	9. To The Sky

**Author's Note: I've officially lost control over this story. Not in a bad way, but I start writing one thing, sticking to my outline and then suddenly ends up somewhere else. Well, well. I accidentally wrote a part of what will probably be chapter 14 too, so.. always something. Also, I think I'm having some trouble writing Santana.. it's hard to get a grip on her thoughts since I write her in third person. I'm trying though. And to Snixxwanky - I totally agree with you. Santana's uncertainty is driving me crazy. I don't like it. But I kinda need it for the plot so bear with me ;) It'll get better, eventually.  
**

* * *

**9. To The Sky**

**[Wednesday, december 21:st 2011]**

"I can't believe your luck," Sam sighed when he opened the curtains. The second I looked out the window, excitement rushed through my body and I reached for my phone.

_**To: Puck  
Are you awake?**_

After sending the first message I realized the flaw in my plan and sent another text.

_**To: Mike  
Get up loser we're  
going skiing!  
Meet you at 9  
Wake Puck!**_

"Seriously though Brittany, how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Manage to be off on the good days. It was the same way last winter. It's not fair."

"I'm awesome."

"Pfft, it's just luck," Quinn interjected.

"Well, I've gotta be lucky in some way.." I muttered.

"So you still haven't talked to Santana then?" she asked just as my phone buzzed again.

_**From: Mike  
We're up. Meet at  
Cascades? Puck says  
[various expletives]  
/Chang**_

"Huh, umm no I haven't."

"Seriously Britt, it's not gonna get easier by postponing it you know," Quinn said.

"I know, I was supposed to do it yesterday but then she took of from dinner before I had a chance to catch her and we had the rounds and.."

"Dmmi-i, njr-schhrd."

"In english, Sam?"

I heard him spit and a second later a blonde head looked out from behind the bathroom door.

"Admit it, you're scared."

"Am not!"

"You totally are."

"Quinn, tell him I'm not scared!"

"First of all, I'm not your big sister, nor your parent. Secondly, you **totally** are."

"You're not fair," I huffed and kicked an abandoned sock across the small room.

"You're not fair for having the day off," Sam retorted, inevitably bringing my smile back.

"I'm with you Sam. One day off a week and of course it's been dumping when Brittany's off. Totally compensates for her non-existent lovelife," Quinn teased.

"I'm leaving," I said airily and grabbed my jacket off the hook on the wall. "And it's not like you guys are getting anything either!"

"Powder-addicted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder," I heard Sam shout as the door closed behind me.

I knew they didn't mean any harm picking on me, and yeah, maybe I was a bit of a coward. I couldn't pinpoint why I kept avoiding speaking to Santana, it's just.. scary, okay. She's special and I can't read her. She's beautiful and sings like a goddess, she's smart and sarcastic but I know there's a big cuddly dork inside her.  
I just want to get to know her, the real her, but I have no idea where to restart.  
Drunk Brittany hasn't been very helpful so I know I have to do it sober. I want to talk to her sober, no matter what might happen.

I ate my breakfast in a hurry, ignoring the jealous, witty remarks from my coworkers, and snuck into the kitchen to find some wrapping for the sandwich I made for lunch. Just as I opened the right drawer I heard footsteps. Shit.

"Blondie! What do you think you're doing?"

The voice left no doubt as to who had arrived. Head Chef Sylvester. Her high demands and foul mood was infamous in the entire village, and she hated when staff who didn't work in the restaurant set foot in her kitchen. Last year she had scared the former receptionist to tears within the first week.  
I weighed my options and settled on playing honest and dumb. "Wrapping a sandwich," I said with my most unassuming voice.

"Oh, I see. And since when are you cheerful, ass-licking, inferior life forms, also known as reps, allowed in my kitchen for other things than depositing dirty dishes and glasses?"

Okay, there was no way I was getting out of this by playing stupid. I looked up at her, feeling like I was a kid caught with both hands in the cookie jar.

"Since never."

"That's right. Since never. And why is that again? I'll tell you why. Because you are uneducated, germ-infested sources of infection who only exists on these premises to please our overpaying, mindless clients. And where in this building do clients exist, Blondie?"

"Not in the kitchen?"

"Exactly. And neither should you. Now get out of my way before you contaminate the entire room!"

I swallowed and gave the towering woman an apologetic look before I fled.

* * *

"Do you think they have opened the Col?" I asked the guys as the chairlift rapidly carried us up the mountain.

"Not yet, but it hasn't snowed too much. Give them an hour or two," Mike guessed.

"So the backside of park first?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop the cliff halfway," Puck said. "I did a three off it last year, I have to get back in shape."

"Have you ever been in shape?" Mike joked, "I don't think that's possible considering how much you drink."

"Shut it, footloose!"

"Never!"

"Does this lifestyle reverse people's age or something, 'cause you guys sound like two middle-schoolers at the moment," I teased.

"Totally. It's the Jägermeister."

"That only explains you, Puck. I don't drink that shit," Mike protested.

"Speaking of Jägermeister and lifestyles," Puck continued, "are you trying to snog your way through the band, Brittany?"

"Am I doing **what**?" I replied, my voice much louder than I had expected.

"You tell me, but from what I saw, Jonathan was all over you last night, and last week you definitely had eye-sex with Tiny Satan on the dancefloor at Peak. Which I by the way totally approve of."

"I did not make out with Jonathan, why would I do that? Plus, he was super drunk and passed out around midnight, which was even earlier than I went to sleep."

"Relax, Britt, I'm just asking," Puck said in a dangerously smooth voice. Then he nudged Mike in the side with his elbow and smirked at me.

"Now what?" I said, and gave the pair of them a tired look they couldn't see for my goggles.

"You didn't deny the eye-sex," Puck almost giggled and I fell silent, not sure of what to say.  
About ten very long seconds passed, and I knew my friends eyed me expectantly.

"It was probably one-sided anyway," I tried.  
No one but Quinn and Sam knew about the hallway kiss, and I was determined to keep it that way, especially since I still hadn't talked to Santana.

"Believe that if you want to, but I had a very gloomy customer around seven last wednesday, like lovesick slash rejected slash confused-gloomy, if you know what I mean."

I looked over at Mike for confirmation. "True. She came in alone and had a couple of shots and a beer in about an hour. Then she left again."

Wednesday. She hadn't been at dinner that day, and I had ditched the aprés-ski for Middle Earth.  
The thought of Santana, alone and silent at Peak made my heart ache. Maybe it wasn't my place to feel that way, but blue skies and fresh snow faded away and dark images filled my mind.

"Imagine what you want, but there's nothing going on with Santana and I," I said after a pause that was a little too long. "I mean, we're hot and all but no," I continued, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah Puck, put it in your spank bank and move on," Mike added.

Puck was silent for a second, then turned to Mike.

"You did not just quote that movie?"

"Did too."

After another chairlift, followed by a boring part called "pulling Puck along the very flat transport slope and at the same time mocking him for being a snowboarder", we had made our way to backside park, as we called it. Pretty logical, since it was the backside of the ridge next to the snowpark. A short run, but with easy access and it usually gathered more snow than its surroundings.  
The adrenaline was tickling my insides – it was more than two weeks since the last good dump of snow, and we were the first ones on this particular slope today. And the short part we'd skied on piste was promising – about two decimeters of the cold, fluffy stuff.

"Ladies first, B," Puck said.

"Why yes, Noah, how very chivalrous of you," I smiled.

Mike tried to hide a smirk. "Don't let him fool you Britt, he just wants you to film when he falls of that cliff."

"Whatever, I get the first tracks," I replied, completely satisfied.  
I looked at the slope below me. The tips of my skis were mid-air over the edge already, and with a small jump forward, I was off.

It's a unique feeling, powder skiing. Like submerged floating, kind of. I know that's an uncombinable combination, but that's the best description of it.  
The light snow brushed my knees and thighs, making a special rustling sound. I pushed into the turns, feeling the snow almost pushing me back up on top of it. I laughed out loud, I wasn't thinking at all, just let my body move, gain speed and feel light sprays off snow hit my face.  
Following the terrain I made my way down, jumping off a small windlip before stopping to the left of the cliff the guys wanted to drop. It was so easy, like every worry I'd ever had just ran off me. Snow, sunshine and friends. Simple as that.  
I smiled as I rummaged through my backpack in search for my video camera, waving to Puck and Mike that they could go.

I saw them speak but didn't hear the words. Probably debating who should go first. After a minute or so Mike went. I'm always surprised when I haven't skied with him for a while – the lanky guy skis like a bulldozer, forcing through even the thickest snow as fast as he can. He slowed down a little right before the cliff, then grabbed his left ski mid-air, let it go and landed in a cloud of snow maybe seven meters away.

"Nice one Chang!" I yelled and pressed the rec button to pause the camera.  
Puck was halfway down when I started it again. _Always the show-off_ I thought to myself as he neared the cliff.  
Unsurprisingly, he went for the 360 right away, but over rotated and crashed belly first in the snow.

"You alright?"

A steady stream of curse-words was heard and then two arms was waving, thumbs up.  
I put my camera in the backpack again and skied down to Mike, past a muttering Puck who denied my offer to help him get back up.

"You got that on tape, right?" Mike asked when I stopped next to him.

"Yep," I smirked.

"Good. I'm gonna rub it in his face."

Smiling, I looked up to where Puck now was making his way down to us. Behind him and the ridge I saw a welcome sight – tiny bubbles making their way up the mountain.

"Mike, the funitel's open!"

"Puckasaurus, come on, we've got places to be," Mike shouted, gesturing for Puck not to stop by us and instead head straight for the lift.

"Race ya," I said to Mike, and we sped off to catch Puck, and track out another, much longer slope.

* * *

"I'm gonna meet up with my cousin Blaine. You guys've met him, right?"

Everybody shook their heads.

"You haven't? My bad. Well, he works at Colouir and he's been here for as many seasons as I have, but with a slightly different snowboarding/partying ratio, so he really knows his way around the mountain," Robert said.

"So he's a dinosaur then."

"Depends on what or whom you compare with, Santana."

"Dinosaur. Very ancient dinosaur."

"Anyway, if you want to, you can come. Blaine has transceivers and stuff if anyone needs to borrow."

"I'm on," Zach said, and Santana nodded her approval a second later. "We have transceivers, too."

"I'm gonna pass this one," Amy said, "I think I have a cold coming and I don't wanna get ill."

"There will be other times. Say hi to Jonathan when he wakes up, will ya?"

"That's an _if_, not a _when_."

"Have fun Amy, the movie hard drive is under everything else in my closet," Santana said as the four of them carried their dishes to the kitchen, hurrying to avoid the head chef who apparently was in an extra foul mood this morning.

Fifteen minutes later a short guy in his mid-twenties walked up to them outside the hotel. He carried a board that looked brand new, and smiled widely at them.  
He wasn't the spitting image of Robert, who was nearly a head taller, but you could tell that they were related.

"Blaine, hi! How are you man?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

"Satan, Zach, this is my cousin Blaine. Blaine meet Satan.. eh, Santana and Zach."

As soon as they were somewhat properly introduced they walked over to the transport slope and strapped their boards on, heading for the nearest chairlift.

"So, have you guys snowboarded off-piste before?" Blaine asked on their way up.

"Umm, a little, but you know, just next to the slopes," Zach said and Santana nodded in agreement.

"Alright. But you're pretty comfortable on piste?"

"As long as it's not flatlight."

"Not gonna happen today," Blaine said.

Santana looked at her surroundings. The snow was untouched and soft-looking apart from where the groomed runs were. All the north-facing slopes lay in shadow in the morning hours because the sun was so low, different shades of blue with black cliffs in the mix.  
It was peaceful.

They got off the chair and followed Blaine to the left around the lift house. A mellow slope lay in front of them before steepening and disappearing from view maybe two hundred meters further ahead.

"Look, we're gonna head straight down here, then follow the fence next to the reservoir to the left. Get as much speed as you can – it's flat for a bit, and you'll see where I'll stop."

With those words, Blaine took off, a spray of snow shooting out behind him when he reached the untouched snow.

"You go ahead Santana, you're lighter than us so if anyone needs a push it's you," Robert said.  
Santana felt sort of offended, even though she knew Robert meant no harm.

"Try to stay in Blaine's track to not lose speed, alright."

"I know, I know," she replied, tightened the buckles around her ankles a little and made a small jump, turning her board into the fall line.

She crouched down low, trying to catch as little air as possible but almost lost her balance when her board veered into the untouched snow next to Blaine's track. A bit of flailing got her back on track and the speed seemed to be enough to take her all the way to the brightly colored spot ahead that was Blaine.

He was standing to the right of a cliff just where the mountain steepened. Santana looked past him and towards the piste far below them, appreciating what lay in between. A wide incline of untouched snow, sprinkled with small dips and cliffs, steep but not intimidating. This would be fun.

Short thereafter, Santana was lying head first in the deep snow – spitting, swearing and trying to get up from the hole her flailing arms were creating.

"You okay sis?" Zach called from above, only to be answered with a mix of english and spanish curses.

"I can go down and help her," Blaine offered.

"Better not," Zach interjected. "She'll be fine, just give her a minute."

Santana got back on her feet after a while and made her way over to Rob, further down. She glared jealously as her brother came surfing down the mountainside, followed by Blaine.

"Are you alright, Santana?" Blaine asked.

"I didn't see the fucking drop, that's all," she grumbled.

"Eh.. it can happen to the best of us," a slightly startled Blaine replied.  
Santana muttered something under her breath, determined not to be outshone by the boys ever again.

* * *

"Wow," I sighed and fell down spread-eagled on the terrace.

We had spent the entire morning tracking out a side of the mountain that everyone but us seemed to ignore, and my legs were almost shivering with exhaustion.  
Now we had stopped by a restaurant, originally to use the restrooms and refill our water bottles, but when we smelled food all three of us agreed that burgers and fries were in order.  
As the boys walked over to the self-service to order I scrambled to my feet and began to look around for somewhere to sit. It was really crowded for being before noon, but I guess that there were more people in the resort now, with christmas coming up.  
I wobbled away, trying to look stable but walking in unbuckled ski boots is hard.  
Someone called my name and I turned, not very gracefully, to find the source.

"Over here, B!"

A tall guy in a green jacket was waving excitedly and after a few seconds I realized it was Robert.

"Hi Rob," I shouted and made my way over. He was with a few others at the far end of the terrace and when I came closer my stomach flipped a little.  
Of course I would run into Santana.  
Not that I didn't wanna be around her but we had settled into this weird routine where we peacefully co-existed and were civil around each other. What we didn't do was talk.  
Yeah, there was a invisible yeti around whenever we were in the same place, and neither of us wanted to admit that it existed. Well, I can't speak for her, but I did my best to ignore it. The yeti, I mean.

"Hi guys," I said as I bumped down on the wooden bench next to Robert, who had scooted over a bit.  
I realized I knew all four of them, so I just waited for them to fall back into conversation. Santana was sitting on the other side of Robert, and Zach and that guy Blaine who's related to Robert in someway that I always forget sat on the other side of the table.  
Blaine totally got a double dose of whatever eyebrow-gene they had running in their family.

"Good day?" Zach said, and I realized he was talking to me.

"Totally, we've been tracking out the Grand Fond all morning. No-one's there, and I can't believe it – it's the most obvious run on that side."

"I know, right. We went down there now, but just once. So good," Blaine cut in.

"Whaaat, you guys ruined my tracks? I was creating a pattern," I pouted, only to earn a soft shove in the side from Robert.  
Seconds later I felt a buzzing on my thigh and "I Just Can't Wait To Be King" started playing.

"TMS, it's Brittany," I said with my best professional voice.

"Where are you? Don't tell me you got lost trying to find the restrooms again," Mike asked.

"What? No. I just found company. And a table. We're at the far end, around the corner."

"Great, we'll be right there," he said and hung up before I had the time to ask if I should help. I decided against it and proceeded to take of my backpack, switching my helmet for a beanie and turning off my avalanche beacon. There was a big pile of the other's gear already so I just dumped my stuff there.

* * *

Sometimes I really think that simple food is underrated. Burgers and fries in particular.  
I was halfway into a food coma, not paying attention to the conversation, just enjoying my day off with my friends. The guys bantered about where to go next and fought over the last fries when Santana spoke.

"We're not gonna sit here and debate all day are we? 'Cause we needs to be back by half past three and I wants to get my ride on."

"Does anybody buy in to your faux-ghetto act," Zach retorted, and I had to bite down my tongue before admitting out loud that I thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"I agree," I said. "Not with you," I glared at Zach, erasing his victorious grin, "With Santana. I wants to get my ride on."

"Does any of you understand how insinuating that sounds?"

"Shut it, Puck!" Santana and I said in unison, and I snatched the last fry from him and stubbed it in the ashtray.

* * *

No matter how much she tried to ignore it, Santana had to admit the silence was a little bit uncomfortable. Not that she claimed to know Brittany well, but she knew the girl was a talker, always bubbling with random facts and observations. And now, Brittany was silent. Probably because of her presence.  
Another thing Santana knew was the length and slowness of this particular chairlift, seeing as she'd been cornered by Amy in the very same one a few days earlier. Judging by their current placement on the cable, she would have to endure about seven more increasingly uncomfortable minutes. Or she could talk. That was also an option.  
The question was about what.

Santana wasn't sure if she was more pissed or thankful that the boys had raced to the lift line, thus leaving her and Brittany alone, but at least Puck and her annoying brother, who had taken an instant liking to each other (probably based on their mutual affinity for tormenting her in a friendly way) were elsewhere. Spending a lift ride squeezed next to Puckerman, eh, no thanks.  
The silence went on, Brittany fiddled with the strap of one of her poles, tightened her goggle strap, did anything but initiate a conversation. Santana had to do something.

_What's going on between us_ was probably not a good line. She was quiet for another half minute, trying to make up her mind.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asked, finally. _Great Lopez. Talk about skiing. Coward._

"Yup. The backside," Brittany answered.

"Backside? Like the other side?" _Way to show off the brains, Lopez. Get a grip!  
_Brittany nodded, her blue helmet bobbing up and down.

"It's not, like, dangerous, is it?" Santana asked, suddenly unsure of her abilities.

"Nah, it's not to bad. The instep can be tricky, but there's a lot of snow now so it'll be alright. It's in the shadow so the snow stays cold."

"Oh. Okay."

She was still a bit hesitant about the whole thing. Powder snow was incredible, but riding down the unexploited side of a mountain, where no-one could find you if shit happened.. Santana didn't want to admit it but she felt a bit intimidated.

"You'll be fine," Brittany said, patting Santana on the shoulder. Santana just nodded and mumbled "yeah" under her breath.  
The awkward silence was about to settle again, big time.

"I'm sorry," Santana said abruptly.

"For what?" Brittany enquired, shifting towards Santana so that they was somewhat face-to-face.

"For freaking out on you. For not knowing how to deal with.. last year. And now. I don't know, I just felt like I owed you an apology."

"Oooh..kay. Do I owe you one?"

"No!" Santana exclaimed. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's me, it's just.." she could feel her voice cracking up and she wasn't sure if she was ready to say what she was about to, but she had to. For Brittany's sake.  
She swallowed hard and spoke again, voice calmer now.

".. I've had a lot going on, in my head and outside of it too, and I don't.." another pause "I don't think I can just pick up where we left off last year. Not that I assume we are, and not that I don't want to, but if we were, I mean.. shit, I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

Santana covered her goggles with her hands and looked away, heart beating furiously and cheeks burning.

"Soo.." Brittany began. "What you tried to say is that.." she went quiet for a second, undoubtedly trying to turn Santana's word-vomit into something comprehensible.

"I'm sorry for the way I've behaved, and can we be friends?" Santana filled her in, trying to push back the stinging feeling she got from uttering the last word.

Brittany didn't answer, just wrapped her up in a weird, one-armed hug, almost dropping her poles in the process. "'Course we can, of course we are," the blonde said, smiling as she pulled back.

"Oh. Good," Santana said, relieved but also feeling a little bit empty. Her shoulders relaxed and she actually managed to admire the surroundings a little, when Brittany spoke again.

"Umm, Santana.. I just gotta ask.."

"Yeah?"

"Friends mean like friends-friends, right?"

Santana's nerves turned into a tight-knitted nest in half a second, sharp.

"Yeah.. I mean.."

Brittany cut her off. "No, that's okay. I was just checking."

"Oh. Okay."

"Just wanna make sure we're on the same plate here."

Santana frowned, then she figured out what Brittany meant. "Same page?"

"Exactly!" Brittany exclaimed.

"That's alright, right?"

"Yeah, San. That's good. We're friends."

"Good," Santana half spoke, half sighed, and waited for all her jittery nerves to settle down. They didn't. She had a hunch that she probably should clarify herself a little bit more.

"So about the kiss.. and the following freakout.. I think it would be best if that didn't repeat itself in a while. I mean, it was all my fault but I just wanted to say that I think it's for the best if that doesn't happen again.." Santana stuttered. "For a while," she added, a part of her desperately wanting to keep the metaphorical door open, if even just a little.

Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and looked at her sincerely.

"It's okay San, I get it. No sweet lady kisses right now. I'm perfectly fine being friends. And I don't wanna say just friends because there's no just about it. You're great, and I'm glad we finally cleared the air," she giggled a little.

"It's been a bit stiff, huh?" Santana said, feeling much lighter all of a sudden, but also a bit sad.

"Aaaawkward."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Hey, stop apologizing. Friend."

"Fine, I will."

* * *

Okay, so maybe I had downplayed the scariness of the instep when I told Santana about it. A little. Or a lot. Maybe I didn't mention how steep the short traverse was. Or how it made my knees weak, in a totally bad way. Whatever. I was going to head through it anyway. Now. I've done this before, I know how much speed I need. I can do this.  
When Santana's green helmet disappeared behind the cliff I pushed forward, trying to find the right weight on my skis. I had to head sideways over the top of a really narrow colouir and then past a steep rocky section to get to the wider bowl on the other side and no matter how many times I did it, it scared me every time.  
Maybe because we were on a very remote part of the mountain, I don't know. It was just unsettling.

The passing took maybe fifteen seconds, more or less, but it felt much longer and I was relieved when I reached Mike and Santana, stopping ahead of them to make space for the others following.

"That was.. steep," Santana said.

"Mhm. A bit scary, right B?" Mike asked.

"Naaah," I said, trying to play it cool in front of Santana, which I didn't have too because we were friends.. or something. I shoved that thought back, not wanting to deal with it right now.

"Britt, come on, I know it scares the shit out of you everytime," Mike insisted.

"Does not," I interjected.

Mike shrugged and turned to Santana, theatre-whispering "It totally does" in a very loud way.

"Whatever," I huffed and turned my attention to the powder-field ahead instead, hoping it would be as good as it looked.

* * *

It was.

It was in all a couple of very good minutes. Getting to go first, again, because the boys were still eager to be filmed. Getting to feel the light snowflakes brushing my clothes, my cheeks, whirling around in my wake. Gaining speed, the tips of my skis ripping through the untouched surface, simply living in the moment, the peaks on the other side of the glacial valley coming nearer but still being far away.

Getting to watch the others, one by one as they came surfing through the powder, shouting with joy.  
The boys went past me, knowing the film would turn out better that way, but Santana slowed down right next to me, panting and smiling.  
She brushed some snow off my helmet and once again the misbehaving butterflies wanted me to pay attention.

"Want me to follow-cam you?" I asked, because I couldn't figure out anything better to say that wouldn't clash horribly with her wanting to be friends.  
(I was going to have a hard time not overstepping that, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.)

"Why not," Santana replied. We scanned the part of the slope still below us, watching Puck and Blaine disappear on to the cross country-track that led back to the lifts.

"Cool, just go when you're ready," I said and held both of my poles in my right hand.

"Wait a sec, aren't you gonna close that?" Santana frowned and jumped around so that she was facing my back. Right. My backpack was open. So typically me.  
She zipped it up and jumped again to get the nose of the board in the fall line. I followed close behind, trying to keep the camera steady.

I don't usually envy snowboarders. Skis are more convenient when it comes to lift lines, flat transports and getting to remote off-piste runs, but I'm pretty sure I was jealous of Santana snowboarding.  
She moved so smoothly, cat-like even – not as forceful and haphazard as Puck for example. Slashing turns in time with the terrain, and I'm pretty sure she sprayed me on purpose more than one time.

We got down, caught up with the guys and when I sat next to Santana in the chairlift heading closer to the village everything felt good.

Not perfect.. but good.

* * *

"Come on, there's just two tracks up there, we've got time. Please!" Santana begged.

"No we don't. The queue and lift is at least five, then there's the traverse, and by the time everyone's back down we'll be late," Robert explained with a sigh, checking the time on his cell phone one more time.

"But it's short. We're fast. Come on guys," Santana tried.

"I'm sorry San, but we've gotta go. Schue will kill me if sixty percent of the band is late. Especially when the remaining forty percent have a cold or are hungover."

The music from the Folie Douce grew louder and Santana leaned against the safety bar, sulking but trying to hide it. The wide couloir to her left was so tempting, lying in the direct line of view from both ski lifts and the large after-ski bar on the slope. Sure, it was probably steep on the edge of scary, but it played well with Santana's attention-seeking side.

"Stop sulking sis, there'll be more days," Zach chuckled and patted her helmet. He was met with silence and turned to Robert instead.  
When they got of the lift, Santana rapidly strapped her left foot to the board with angry movements.  
Brittany, Puck and Mike were two chairs behind and she didn't want to act like a whining five-year old in front of Brittany.. them.

"If you were a character in a comic book you'd have a raincloud following you around right now."

Santana groaned inwardly. Great. Just great. Little miss adorable sunshine had caught up with her and everything inside Santana felt conflicted and weird. Like she automatically wanted to smile when she heard that happy voice.

"Yeah, probably," she admitted after a second or two, not really looking up. Brittany's shadow slowly slid away and imaginary raindrops fell on Santana again.

"Hey Zach, wait up," she heard Brittany yell. Then a conversation in normal tone between the two of them that she couldn't really make out the words of. She jumped to her feet and looked for her brother. He, Rob and Blaine was standing where the slope began to steepen, talking to Brittany.  
Santana waved goodbye to Puck and Mike and started making her way over to the others.

"You're going the wrong way," Brittany said and tried to block her way.

"What?"

"You're going the wrong way. I could see your comic book raincloud all the way from the chair I was in, so I told Zach and Rob that we'll do their laundry if you could be a little late for work today. They thought that was okay so.. we're going that way," Brittany said and pointed to the second lift with her pole.

"Apparently, they're almost out of clean underwear," Brittany added thoughtfully.  
Santana couldn't figure out what to say so she one-arm hugged Brittany, almost tipping both of them over. Doing the guys laundry, well.. eew, but still.

In the end it was so worth it. Neither of them would ever admit it, but standing on the edge of the colouir before dropping in had a whole other species of butterflies running wild in their bodies.  
The first few seconds when the deep snow was yet to limit their speed. The strain in tired legs from trying to maintain control as the narrow chute grew wider and less steep. Big cruisey turns as they neared the piste to show off for the people in the chairlifts that might be looking.  
Puck summed it all up pretty well as he spat out some snow.

"Fucking A!"

That day was the first of many when Santana would perform in a tank top she borrowed from Brittany, ski pants and Quinn's old Converse. She had no time for changing, and she would get sweaty again while singing so..

(And none of them told anyone that they'd went down the Hourglass colouir not one time, but two that afternoon.)

* * *

My old laptop was buzzing in an unsettling way. I guess it didn't like 12.6 GB of .mov content. It just grew slower and slower, no matter how many times I erased everything from the hard drive and rebooted it.

"It sounds like there's an angry hamster trapped in there," Sam muttered from the other side of the room.

"There isn't, I promise. Plus, I've never seen a hamster **that** flat. And it would be fried and smelling now if there were because this thing is burning up," I said and shuffled out of the sofa-bunk. I took the laptop and walked out in the hallway. In the far end was a storage for all of the staff's ski gear, and that room had a freezing concrete floor. I put the upset device there and left it to cool off for a while.

It wasn't very late so instead of going back to our room I skipped up the stairs to the bar. Food service was over but a few guest and random people were scattered in sofas and on stools, their words mixed with soft jazz from the sound system. Unlike tuesdays, wednesdays were still pretty mellow.  
I hoped Schue wasn't around – he didn't like staff walking around up here in sweats – but after a quick scan I figured the coast was clear.

I walked over to the bar where Kurt and Quinn were deep in a conversation about the upcoming holidays.

"Hi Quinnie the Pooh," I said and sneaked up close to my friend.

"Hi Britt," she replied and tugged me close. When I first met Quinn she wasn't much of a cuddler but the months spent with me and Sam had changed her.

"You're an angel," I smiled at Kurt when he placed a pint of hot chocolate in front of me. I hadn't even asked. Sometimes I wondered if he might be psychic, or if he had some kind of bartender sixth sense going on.

"My pleasure," he said and did a comical bow before turning to an older man requesting some ind of fancy whiskey from the top shelf.

"Do you really have to work until eleven?"

I sipped my hot chocolate through a straw and attacked Quinn with my best pout. She merely rolled her eyes and I pouted a little bit more.

"There's no one here," I argued. "And Kurt can answer pretty much any questions. Come on. We can put on a high school comedy and if Sam's asleep we can steal his snacks!"

I saw in her eyes that she was giving in, and it's not like it would be the end of the world if she left – it was close to half past ten already.

"You'll come tell us if the world suddenly ends or everyone is eaten by the yeti, right?" I asked Kurt who nodded in a way that also said "Shh, I'm having a serious conversation about ancient and disgusting whiskey".

"See," I turned to Quinn. "Let's go. Movie. Sweatpants. Sam snoring. You know you want it," I grinned.

"Fine. But if Schue finds out you take the blame."

"No problem. I have to do laundry soon anyway."

"You have to what?"

"Long story. I'll explain. Now come." Wise from experience I knew that short sentences was a good way of shutting Quinn up, and I started pulling her towards the staircase.

* * *

"This movie is terrible," Quinn scoffed and hid her face behind a pillow.

"No, it's not. This scene is, but the movie's sweet."

"B, you can't be serious. It's Buffy's real life boyfriend and what's-her-face who turns beautiful the second she stops wearing glasses and pulls out her ponytail. And it's from the nineties."

"Come on, it's sweet. And the whole nineties thing makes it funny too."

"Whatever. Is he done eating pubes-pizza yet?" Quinn groaned into the pillow.

"Almost.. now. Yep, it's safe."

Quinn exhaled and removed the pillow from her face.

"You have to realize there are good nineties movies, but there are also bad ones. 10 Things I Hate About You is good. This one, not so much."

"Super-size my balls!" I giggled. Quinn simply shook her head.

"Be silent, be still!"

"Nope. Not funny."

"Fine, I'll stop.

"Please don't, then I'll have to watch the movie."

I turned dead silent and focused on the tiny laptop screen.  
I'm never gonna tell her, but I like when Quinn and I are bickering like this. She's like the older sister I never had.

"I'm gonna have to ask you, aren't I?" Quinn said when the stupid blonde jock on the screen told Laney about the prom queen bet.

"Huh?" I answered, not quite getting her point.

"You're not gonna tell me that you hung out with Santana? Not that you have to, Zach told me why you two were running late but I know you. You want to talk, but you don't wanna bring it up, right?"

One of the downsides of living and working with someone for a long time is that you get very receptive of their feelings, and Quinn was a very receptive person to begin with.

"Yeeeaaah," I drawled.

"So you were gonna tell me? Come on B, I want details. We can totally overanalyze this together."

I stalled a little. There wasn't very much to tell, really. She apologized even though I never thought she had to, and we had fun together, as friends.

"Did you guys talk?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah we did."

"Aaaand?"

"Not much. She was kind of jittery, you know.. she sort of apologized for last week."

In the end Quinn managed to get a billion details about the five hours I spent with Santana and the others, and I'm pretty sure she analyzed every single one. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.. don't get me wrong, I love Quinn, I trust her to the moon and back but I was analyzing this specific situation enough on my own.

"I don't know Britt.. maybe you should just let it be. Be friends and see what happens."

I swallowed hard and tried my hardest to steer my thoughts in that direction. I had been thinking about Santana's words the whole evening. Friends. I could do that. I just had to not think about the way her whole body had trembled when she'd pinned me to that wall, or the softness of her warm lips on a cold february afternoon, or the snowflakes that got stuck in her eyelashes earlier today, or..  
Dammit.

That was precisely the things I shouldn't think about. I shoved the thoughts about Santana back and forced my brain in another direction. Boys, for example. Boys were safe. Because boys were nothing like Santana.

"Britt..?"

"Eh, sorry.. I zoned out a little. But I guess you're right." I tried to sound optimistic, and why shouldn't I? I was young and free, and the village was refilled with new guys every week. I'd have lots of distraction. And it wasn't like I couldn't hang out with Santana, I could. We were doing laundry together for the love of pow. And I was fairly certain that we'd hang out more in general now that we were less awkward around each other.  
I just had to not think about her _that_ way. I avoided eye-contact with Quinn. I knew she could see right through me.

"Maybe the two of you can be something other that friends some other time," Quinn said then, and I knew I was busted. She was trying to comfort me, and I nodded quietly.

"I mean, there's clearly some kind of.. chemistry between you. But she's also clearly overwhelmed by you.. your history."

I nodded again. Something about this had freaked Santana, it was painfully obvious. So in a way, Quinn was right. Better slow down a little. But something in the back of my head kept trying to get my attention, kept telling me that Santana was perfect in every stubborn, moody, sarcastic and sexy way there was.  
I wasn't sure who I should listen to, but then I figured that the whole thing was about Santana.  
Maybe I should just do what she asked me to.

Be friends.

No matter how many butterflies inside me I had to hibernate.

* * *

**Apologies if I'm boring you with all the skiing, but I suffer from terrible ski-withdrawal at the moment :)  
The song in the chapter title is Maps - To The Sky.. the lyrics kinda fit with the story, plus it's a great song for cruising down newly groomed pistes.**

**Coming up: Trying to be friends, and laundry. (Maybe Feminist!Santana will have a few qualms about this.)  
**


	10. Small Steps Backwards

**10. Small Steps Backwards  
**

* * *

**[Friday december 23:rd, 2011]**

Someone had puked in the elevator. It was all over the door, and the carpet.  
Who even throws up at seven o'clock in the evening? In a lobby?

I left the smelly, unsolved mystery behind and ran up the stairs two steps at a time. Santana only lived on the second floor, but I was a little breathless when I came to a halt outside her door anyway.  
There was a sign on it now, not only stickers. Someone had duct-taped a drawing of five stick figures and written "speak, friend, and enter" below. If Sam hadn't been living with me I would have thought it was him.

"Friend," I told the door, and then knocked three times too for good measure. Maybe I should have said it in elvish, but I always forgot the right word. Plus, the muffled voices and music from inside the door, and the fact that Santana and Amy left dinner just ahead of me made me sure that someone would open, elvish or not.

"It's open," a girl's voice yelled from inside. I pushed the door open, or well, I tried. It wouldn't open fully due to the mountain of outerwear and boots scattered in the narrow hallway. I squeezed through the opening and stepped into the sauna-like apartment. The air was warm, humid and smelled of shampoo and skiboots. I placed my old Nike's carefully on top of the pile and stepped over it.

Santana and Amy sat by a wobbly looking table in the tiny space that doubled as a dining area and living room, playing some card game. The boys were nowhere to be seen.  
"Knock-knock," I said and tapped the wall.  
"Oh, hi Brittany! I thought it was the boys," Amy said. Santana didn't say anything but she looked up at me and smiled so it didn't really matter.  
"Nah, just me. Umm, Santana, there was a free spot in the staff laundry room now so I thought I'd ask if we should get it over with. The laundry I mean."  
"What laundry?" Amy asked before Santana had the time to answer.  
"Well.. I kinda bribed Rob and Zach to let Santana stay out a little longer on wednesday."  
"So that's why they didn't yell at you for being late?" Amy asked Santana who just shrugged.

I felt a little insecure all of a sudden. Amy's a really nice person, but she seems to be to Santana what Quinn is to me – someone who looks out for her and has her back no matter what. What if she was mad I wanted Santana to help with unnecessary work?

"Hey, San.. you don't have to help me if you don't want to.. after all it was my idea," I said and tried to resist the urge to shuffle my feet awkwardly.  
She didn't answer right away, instead there was some serious staring contest going on between her and her redheaded bandmate. Just as I started to feel more than a little uncomfortable Santana sent Amy one final glare and stood up.

"Okay, let's," she said. "But we have to find something to carry all their shit in."  
She walked around me, into the pantry and rummaged through the few drawers there, muttering under her breath. I felt a cool breeze and then something light and cold hitting my back before falling to the floor with a rustle. I turned just in time to catch two shopping bags that Amy was throwing at me from the balcony.

"I always forget were we put them," Santana sighed behind me.

In the end we had so much stuff to carry that Amy had to help us get everything to the hotel. Both girls had decided to do their own laundry while we were already at it, and I ran past my room and grabbed some of mine too.

When I got to the laundry room at the end of the basement corridor, Santana and Amy was already busy tossing different clothes in different piles. The black mountain of socks, long-johns and assorted underwear was the largest by far. Come to think of it, the second largest pile was also dark colors. Quite the opposite from my clothes. I always have trouble knowing which of my multicolored clothes should go with which when I'm doing laundry. Usually I just give up and put everything together and hope for the best. Santana and Amy were obviously a little more methodical.

"How can there be so much dirty clothes, we've only been here for two weeks," Santana sighed.  
"Maybe it looks more because the guys are bigger than you, and their clothes take up more space," I wondered out loud.  
"Maybe. Hey, Brittany could you help me get the detergent? I can't reach it."  
Someone had pushed it to the far back of an already high shelf, and Santana was balancing dangerously on an upside down laundry basket.  
"Yeah, one sec," I said and tossed one of many divorced socks over my shoulder.

-#-#-#-#-

The annoying thing with laundry is the waiting. There's an empty hour to pass, and an hour is too short to get much else done than just hanging out. I figured we would go hangout upstairs or in the staff room or something, but Amy had another idea.

"Can't you show us your place?" She asked when we shut the door behind us.  
"Umm, sure. It's not very interesting though. Unless Sam sleepwalks. That's hilarious. But I don't think he's sleeping right now."  
"No, I think he's with Zach and Puck somewhere.. they talked about football or Fifa or something earlier," Santana added.

I walked first through the corridor, walking past the stairs and to the familiar door second to the left.  
"Welcome to Casa de.. eh.. Quinn, Sam and Brittany," I said with an exaggerated british accent as I ushered them into my room.

"This is so cosy," Amy squealed. I thought cosy was a bit over the top, but it was cleaner than most days, and Sam had spent last night putting up christmas decorations, also known as the christmas tree lights we'd "borrowed" off a tree last New Year's Eve. They were hanging off the curtain rod, covering the room in a warm glow. Some christmas carol was playing on low volume, I guess Quinn had forgotten to turn it off before she left.

"It's nice," Santana mumbled. I wasn't sure if she was discretely acknowledging that she'd been here before or not.  
"Well, this is about it," I said, slowly turning around in the middle of the room. "And the bathroom, but that's uninteresting."  
Santana walked over to the window and looked out, still being very quiet. She had been very quiet all day. Once more I felt stupid for assuming that we would be okay right away after our sort-of-talk on wednesday.

"Is this a picture of your siblings? They look so much like you." Amy stood on her tiptoes, leaning against my bunk bed, looking at the photos I had pinned to the wall by my bunk.  
"Yeah. But they're much older now. Jenny's eighteen now, and Will turned fourteen in november."  
"They are really cute. You must miss them a lot. I know I miss my sister."  
"I do, but it's alright. To tell you the truth, Jenny and I always fought like crazy until I moved out. We get along much better when we don't see each other every day. And Will is so much younger than I am so we're close in another way."

Amy kept scanning my wall, chuckling now and then – I had covered most of the wall with photos over the last few weeks so it took some time. I turned to look at Santana instead. She was still looking out the window.

One of my friends in high school told me once that "when you think somebody's gorgeous when they're wearing old sweats and t-shirts that are so soft they're almost falling apart, you know you're in trouble".  
I'm not sure if I should trust the words of a girl who fell in and out of love with a new person every week for most of the years we hung out, but I really liked the sight of Santana in sweats and a plain, white t-shirt. Like someone dresses at home, when the clothes you wear don't matter.  
Denying it was just stupid – I could easily picture Santana and I at a breakfast table somewhere in distant future, and that didn't happen to me very often.

Everything about her looked so soft. Maybe it was the light, but I really wanted to touch her, to tuck the stray lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Not friend-behavior at all, I know, and she had said what she wanted and I had to respect that. Even if it sucked. Even if my brain kept leaping amok whenever I saw her, or thought of her. I just had to ignore the itching in my fingertips and don't care about the way my heart slowed or sped up whenever I was around her.  
Being around her was better than nothing.

"What does Quinn say about this picture, huh, Brittany?" Amy's voice dragged me back to present day. I didn't have to look to know which photo she was referring to. Quinn was rarely drunk out of her mind, but when it finally happened, I made sure that I had evidence. Just because I was the wild one nine times out of ten didn't mean I had no right to taunt her sometimes.  
"She says that it's good that people rarely care about what I decorate walls with," I giggled. "Don't tell her you saw it, it'll lose it's blackmailing purposes."

No, honestly. I would never put a photo of my best friend drunk off her ass accepting a challenge to drink beer out of a shoe (not her shoe, Puck's shoe) where a lot of people could find it. But I joked about doing it sometimes, and Quinn always got a little unsure about how serious I was.

"Wait, what's.. is it.. is this you, Santana?"  
An innocent question, and everything froze.  
Shit.

I hadn't even thought about it. That picture, the first one I put up when I got back here, right next to my headboard. A tiny printout the size of a polaroid that I woke up to every morning. Shit.  
The second Amy said her name, Santana turned around and looked right at me.

I tried to read her but I couldn't. I knew I was blushing even though a part of me knew it was ridiculous to be ashamed. She was the one who gave me the photo in the first place. But maybe it wasn't for just anyone to see.. no matter how innocent it looked.

It meant a lot. To her too, that much I could tell from the anxious look on her face.  
"Ye, yeah.. yes it is Santana," I stuttered in her place.

"When did you guys take this?" Amy wasn't on to something, she only sounded curious. She was still studying my wall and had apparently not caught the awkward tension that had settled in most of the room.  
Santana was dead silent, and I didn't dare to say anything. I had no idea if or how much Amy knew.  
Dark eyes fluttered from mine, to the floor, to the ceiling and back again. Maybe ten seconds passed, maybe sixty. It was hard to tell, and Amy was the one to break the silence.

"Oh."

A faint sound of realization. I guess I didn't have to wonder if she knew then. Santana must have told her about last winter, at least some of it.  
Another batch of seconds passed. I stood frozen on the carpet, Santana's gaze still jumped around the room and Amy slowly sank back on the soles of her feet.

"I'm sorry," Amy said eventually. "I should have realized it was an old picture."  
She looked at me for assurance and I did my best to send out signals of "it's okay".  
"Don't be. You have every right to ask. It's not like it's hidden or anything."

"You sure?"  
I nodded.

Santana was yet to say anything, she had turned back at the window again and this time when I looked at her I didn't think about her comfortable clothes or her sheer beauty. I thought about the way her posture now said more than everything she'd ever said to me before – drunken or sober.  
She cleared her throat after a while, a tiny cough.

"Nevermind. You couldn't know. I was just startled by it." Her voice was so calm, it surprised me.  
Then she looked right at me, eyes burning, mouthing words meant only for me. The faintest whisper.

"I didn't know you kept it."

My heart did something then. I'm not sure if it was breaking or bursting or a combination of both, but it beat so, so hard.

-#-#-#-#-

All the awkward weirdness faded away after a while. We snuck into the kitchen when Sylvester wasn't there and convinced one of the other chefs to "accidentally" "ruin" three crème brulées. Then Mercedes caught us with her web of gossip and by the time the first laundry load was done I knew everything I never knew I didn't wanna know about my coworkers and friends.

I wasn't gonna overthink this. Quinn had been right. The imaginary ball was in Santana's court, and if she didn't say or do anything more to make me question her, we were friends.  
But it was hard.

Especially when Amy and I began throwing rolled up socks at each other instead of folding laundry and I caught her looking. You would expect Santana Lopez to be in full eye-roll mode about a sock war but no. She stared at me like what I did was nothing but adorable, even when I went against every unstated rule and brought a couple of unwashed socks into the mix.  
But she did roll her eyes when she realized I caught her staring. And when one of the dirty socks hit Amy straight in the face, they teamed up against me.  
I didn't win. Santana wrestled me to the floor and Amy threatened to cover my face with dirty laundry. As disgusting as that could have gotten, a part of me didn't wanna surrender because being pinned to the floor by Santana, hello?

A couple of hours later, I was lying in my bed, waiting for my brain to shut down. It had been a pretty good day. Even when I counted the photo-thing, it was definitely on the plus-side of days.  
I turned my head, scanning the wall and drifted into sleep thinking of Santana.

-#-#-#-#-

They were carrying the last load of laundry back to their apartment, and Amy knew she had to ask now or Santana would remain silent. That was one of the big downsides with their housing situation – no privacy whatsoever.

"San, are you okay?"  
"Mhm."  
"I didn't know it was an old picture. I thought you guys had taken recently."  
"I said I'm okay, right?" Santana snapped.  
The walk was short. Too short. Over.  
Amy stayed silent when they walked through the lobby. Someone had cleaned up the puke from earlier and only a funky smell lingered in the elevator.

The girls threw the piles of clean clothes in their roommate's beds because some twist of fate (or more likely a combination of beer and video games) had them coming home to an empty apartment.  
Amy waited a few more minutes but Santana showed no interest in talking to her. Too bad for her, Amy showed no mercy to moody friends.

"Okay, listen San," she said, reaching for the volume control and lowering No Doubt to a bearable volume. "I know I told you to tell me if you needed to talk but I also think you're acting a bit silly right now."  
Santana's head emerged from the drawer under their bed, glaring angrily.

"You're completely shit when it comes to talking about feelings, heck even your body betrays you. Don't think I can't see it."  
Amy rambled on to a temporarily mute Santana. It hit close to home, even if she hated to admit it.

"Did something happen between you and Brittany?"  
Amy saw the change in Santana's eyes immediately. From angry to something reminiscent of fear in less than a second.

"What do you mean happened?"  
"I don't know, you tell me."  
Santana turned her back on Amy, walked into the pantry and studied the coffee mugs on the shelf.

"Do you want tea?"  
"Stop deflecting Santana. Either you talk now or you can find someone else to use as a shrink. You can't be like this all winter, am I clear?"  
The stern tone in Amy's voice didn't go unnoticed. Santana kept fiddling with the tea but the way her shoulders slumped made Amy think of a sad puppy.

"Earl grey or rooibos?" Santana asked when the water was boiling.  
"Doesn't matter. You pick. Now get over here you miserable twat," Amy said, softer this time.  
She had figured that Santana was like a skittish animal, it was very easy to push her to much and make her shut down completely. For her own sanity's sake, Amy wanted to avoid that scenario.  
The girls sipped their scorching tea in silence for a couple of minutes, Amy relaxed and Santana tense and nervous.

"You're gonna stare a hole in the table if you keep avoiding eye contact like that."  
"Huh? Oh.. sorry," Santana said and stared at the wall instead.  
"San, come on, what did you do? You're acting like you killed Brittany's cat or something. And I know for a fact that the cat in question currently resides in Brighton."  
"Yeah, no.. no I didn't kill her cat."  
"So what did you do then? Words, San. I know you know how to use them."  
Santana scratched her head awkwardly and let out another faint sigh, still refusing to look Amy in the eyes.

"I-told-her-I-just-want-to-be-friends-and-now-I-th ink-I-regret-it," she blurted. "I mean I do. Regret it."  
"Come again?" a puzzled Amy said.  
"I told her I just want to be friends. And I regret it," Santana repeated shakily.  
At last, she looked up and met Amy's gaze with big teary eyes.

"Oh." Amy didn't know what to say. They hadn't spoken much about Brittany during the last week, the Amy and Robert thing had been much more in focus in their little gang because no one could tell for sure whether they were dating or just hooking up, not even Amy.  
"And just to make things clear, that is a bad thing?" Amy asked.  
"I don't know. It is the wiser decision. But it feels like shit."

"So tell her?"  
"I know, I know.. but you've seen how I act when I'm around her. I'm a dysfunctional mute. I have no idea how to behave when she's in the room, it's like her just being there breaks all the synapses in my brain or something. I feel like a scared fourteen year-old around her."  
Amy had to choke back a laughter when she pictured a younger Santana, scrawny and stuttering and with no game whatsoever. Not very difficult since present Santana didn't have much game either, at least not around the one person she really cared about.

"It's not funny."  
"It is though.. a little. But hey, hey Santana, don't.." Amy's voice faded away when Santana started sobbing.  
"I'm scared," she admitted.  
"I've kinda figured that out," Amy said. She held her hand out over the table for Santana to take. She had a hard time grasping what exactly scared Santana so much. Sure, she knew by now that her bandmate was much more introvert than her stage-persona had made her believe, but on the verge of tears? It was a lot of reaction over a former fling, in Amy's opinion.

"But I don't get it? What are you scared of? You tell her and either she's into you or she's not," Amy tried, squeezing Santana's hand gently. "The sooner you do it the less invested you'll be and the less it'll hurt."

"I know.. I do," Santana sniffled. "And it sounds so easy, but I feel shellshocked in a good way when I'm with her and my words stop making sense. She's like sunshine and rainbows on a rainy day and it terrifies me.. how could I ever be good enough for someone like her? Why would she ever want me?"

"Isn't that Brittany's decision, not yours?"  
Santana turned silent again, and stared at her tea like she wanted the liquid to answer in her absence. She took a sip and cleared her throat.  
"It's just.. on one hand I can't see this going anywhere. I'm terrible at dating, I've never had a serious relationship with anyone and we're here and everything's supposed to be all fun and games and being young and.. hooking up with whoever you want and.." she lost her words again and Amy urged her on, nodding.  
"And on the other hand I just wanna be with her. Hell, it doesn't have to be, you know.. physically, which also freaks me out because I'm not sure how that goes, I mean girl on girl, but it's not about that. Not so much. I just wanna be where she is because everything's beautiful there, and fuzzy, and scary. And I'm rambling. See?"  
Santana finished her monologue with a deep, frustrated breath and relaxed her hands that had been clenched awkwardly.

"Don't you think you're planning ahead of yourself now, San?"  
Santana blushed and let out a defeated sigh. "I guess."  
"I mean, Brittany's all kinds of perfect, but you hardly even know each other. Don't you think you should get to know her better before bringing out the grand romantic gestures I'm sure you're planning?"

"Yeah..."  
"Hey, I know what this is like, I've fallen head-over-heels too sometimes, and it's scary as fuck. But either you tell her that you, eventually wanna be more than friends, or you don't and just go with the flow. But you've gotta talk. At least try to. Shy and angry is a very alienating combination, you know."  
"I wish I could turn off the feelings," Santana said after a while.  
"No you don't," Amy replied.  
"Yeah, I do, a bit. All the daydreams I had over the summer overwhelmed me when I met her in real life again. It's so easy to fantasize about someone you think you'll never see again, and then, suddenly she's there for real and my brain just goes haywire and you know the rest.  
I figured it was all imagination and memories, but she's just like I remembered. And that's both good and bad."

"Are you gonna tell her that?"  
"Hell no!" Santana's invisible walls flew back up in 0.1 seconds, sharp.  
"So you're gonna keep up your "I just wanna be friends"-charade?"  
"No.. not for long. But I can't go from _I can't hook up with you because my brain will collapse_ to _I wanna be with you_ in three days, can I?"  
"That's your decision, San, not mine. But can you **please** try and act like a sane person and not some kind of offended hermit?"  
"I'll try."  
Amy frowned.

"I.. I mean I will."  
"That's my girl," Amy stood up and walked over to Santana and caught her in a big hug.  
"Thanks Amy," Santana whispered into the redhead's shoulder.  
"No problemo. I'll tell you when I need you to return the favor," Amy half-joked.  
"Like that's gonna happen. I wish I was as laid-back as you," Santana said with a hint of jealousy in her voice.  
"No you don't. I only end up hurting people because I like when things are casual."

"Is that what you're doing with Rob?" Santana inquired.  
"Maybe.. I don't know. I like having someone. It doesn't have to be the love of my life or even the love of the winter.. but I'm afraid he doesn't see it the way I do."  
"Just give me heads up if there's any risk of a civil war in the apartment."  
"Don't worry, I will," Amy giggled.

Santana put her empty teacup back on the table and sat down on Amy's bunk.  
"Amy, aren't you ever afraid of getting hurt?"  
Amy sat down next to Santana, and looked at her, studied her face.  
"Sometimes I am," she said, thoughtfully. "But I'm more afraid of regretting stuff I was to afraid to do."  
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Santana hummed.  
"True. Cliché but true."  
"I have to keep that in mind," Santana stated with sudden determination. She thought of Brittany, pictured her walking down the only street in the village. Then she let herself into the picture – holding hands with the blonde. The image made her stomach turn in a nervous but pleasant way.

Maybe she should tell Brittany. Maybe falling and getting hurt would be better than only watching and dreaming from afar.  
In a very un-Santana-like move she snuggled closer to Amy.  
"Thanks for listening," she mumbled. "I'm glad I have you."

Amy patted Santana comically on the head and put her arm around Santana's shoulder.  
"Hey, I'm only glad my wisdom's appreciated."  
Santana snorted, but made herself comfortable next to the other girl.

The girls ended up watching a couple of episodes of Gilmore Girls on Amy's laptop, because Amy claimed that the dialogue would do wonders with Santana's occasional muteness. By the time the rest of their little gang came home Santana was almost back to her usual, snarky self.

-#-#-#-#-

**[Monday, december 26:th 2011]**

"I for one believe that it would be a fantastic opportunity for us girls to bond properly and let go of all the stress caused by the additional wrk that has been leading up to christmas. Friendships among coworkers are known to do wonders to the staff's morale and improve helpfulness and.."

"Alright, alright, we're in. Just.. shorten your sentences, will you?" Quinn interrupted Rachel, the tiny waitress, before the short brunette would venture into a monologue several minutes long.

"Yes!" Rachel exclaimed and started bouncing on the spot, practically squealing with joy. I know a lot of people think I'm easily excited but I swear, I've got nothing on Rachel.

"But you have to make sure this stays between us girls. And if Schue finds out, Brittany and I have nothing to do with it, are we clear," Quinn continued, a menacing tone in her voice.

"Crystal," Rachel gulped before disappearing into the kitchen, undoubtedly to tell Marley and Tina about the plans for the evening.

Somehow Rachel had found out that Sam had brought an old Playstation unit, with Singstar, and she had been nagging us for a "girl's night karaoke" for days.  
The only problem was that our dear hotel manager was very strict when it came to staff partying in the hotel, even in our own rooms. Once Amy heard of Rachel's plans she had volunteered the band's apartment, but they didn't have a TV. The only one big enough to use for karaoke was in our room, and since our room was situated right under the bar I figured the noise would be a non-issue.  
Quinn on the other hand, was not as positive but in the end Rachel's nagging had paid off, and the karaoke was officially a go.

Sam and I had the evening shift, but I would join as soon as I could. If I were lucky it would be a slow night and I could sneak away from the rep duty early. Besides, the waitresses worked until ten so I wouldn't miss much.

-#-#-#-#-

"Brittany, no. Let's stick to beer or wine."  
"But this is so good. You mix it with Sprite and you won't even taste the alcohol, I promise."  
"That's the problem. Do you have to be completely hammered every time we go out?" Quinn argued.  
"No, but.." I eyed the apple liquor on the shelf greedily. "It's only what.. 17%. Add a bit of soda and it'll be like wine. Only less yucky."  
"Whatever, your choice. But don't blame me tomorrow morning."  
"No worries, I won't. Thank you for being such an easily overturned voice of reason," I squealed and put a bottle in my basket.  
"You're welcome," I heard Quinn mutter before she disappeared down another aisle.

Three weeks into the season the days had become very schedule-y, and even the simple task of running the five minute errand to the supermarket had to be covered by someone, in this case Sam. There was always something – skiing with guests, taking care of complaints or injuries, planning activities and transfers, mingling at the hotel and answering questions 24/7. Sometimes I wish there would have been four of us, but Schuester didn't care about our workload as long as no guests complained to him.  
No that I was complaining either, but it would be nice to have more than one day off a week.

By the time we had snuck down to our room with the backpack filled with various bottles and snacks the aprés-ski was in full swing. Santana was amazing, as usual.  
She had been less awkward over the last few days. Maybe it was the christmas spirit more than our talk a few days back, but I enjoyed the change nevertheless. We had actually shared a couple long conversations about nothing in particular during the christmas dinner yesterday without her freezing up, and I really liked getting to know her better.

All the staff had participated in a gift exchange where you buy a gift for about 5 euros but you don't know who will receive it, and then you take turns picking presents. It could have been the vin chaud, but Santana had seemed truly excited when she unwrapped a furry marmot toy, instantly naming it Eddie and carrying it with her the whole night. I didn't tell her that she had gotten my gift, but I was secretly kind of smug that she liked it.

Santana's exterior was so confident, tough and snarky, but when I had gotten to know her a little and she let her guard down she was this adorable dork who struggled with social interaction. Of course it hurt that she had cut off my hopes of being more than friends in the near future, but being friends with Santana was also great. I had to think of how I acted around her lesser every day – we were actually getting comfortable around each other.  
I just had to keep a little bit of physical distance and I'd be just fine.

I emptied the backpack and put the beers, wine and the liquor in a plastic back and hung it on the outside of the balcony door to cool before following Quinn upstairs.

"Hey 'Cedes, you excited for tonight?" I called over the noisy lobby.  
"You bet I am, I can't wait," she called back.  
"Excited about what, Miss Pierce," a curious voice behind me said. Fuck. Schuester. Schuester, and my non-existent poker face. I was so busted.  
I forced my brain to come up with a lie, anything even half-believable but it was blank.  
"We're gonna go through all the plans for the New Year's dinner," a collected voice said on my other side. Quinn. Thank every higher power there is.  
"You know how thrilled these two get about planning events," she smiled and gestured at me and Mercedes. I swallowed thickly and forced a smile onto my face.  
"Excellent," Schuester mused. "I have great hopes for this New Year's," he said before walking away.

"That was close," I gasped. "I'm so sorry Q, I had no idea he was skulking around today. I thought he had the day off."  
"So did I, but please be more careful next time."  
"Well, duh."  
"Thank god he's like the most gullible man in the world."

-#-#-#-#-

"Brittany, it's not gonna move any faster no matter how many times you look at it."  
"I know, I know. But it's so slow," I whined and sent the clock on the wall a reproachful glare.  
"Just help me get these lists in order and I'll take the rest."  
"You will?! Thank you Sam, you're the best!"  
"You're welcome. Besides, you girls are occupying our room tonight and I might as well have another one up on you for some other time," he smirked.  
"Sneaky," I smiled and punched him on the shoulder.

Ten minutes later I bounced down the stairs, humming happily.  
Singing was heard from the far end of the hallway – someone was doing a pretty good rendition of _Mamma Mia_. I quickly opened the door and shut it again. I knew Schuester was nowhere near – he lived in another building, but I was not taking any chances, not after the incident earlier.

It was steaming inside. Santana sat on the carpet, singing together with Amy. Tina and Quinn sat in the sofa-bunk, and Mercedes, Marley and Rachel sat on Sam's bunk. The air was thick with various perfumes, hairspray and a faint scent of liquor.

"Yay, Brittany! You got off early," Tina squealed and bounced off the bed to hug me.  
"Yeah, Sam was nice enough to let me go. I'm just gonna change and then I wanna sing. You saved some good songs for me, right?"  
"We only got here like fifteen minutes ago. Quinn, Amy and Santana's been at it for longer though," Rachel explained.  
"Right," I said and started rummaging through my shelves in search of clothes. I had no idea what I wanted to wear, as long as it didn't have a company logo on it. And there was no such thing as a dresscode here – Quinn, Rachel and Mercedes wore dresses and the rest were in various combinations of jeans and shirts or tops.

"Here," Tina said and handed me a plain white t-shirt and tight black jeans.  
"That, and that black vest you for some illogical reason never wear," she added and pushed me in the direction of the bathroom, two and a half steps away.  
"Easy T, are you drunk already?" I laughed at her anti-manners.  
"Nope, buzzed. But you need to catch up. Get changed and I'll get you a drink."  
"But.."  
"Apple and Sprite. And then we're gonna sing. Go on now," Tina fussed and shut the bathroom door behind me.  
"Thank you," I shouted at her through the door.

-#-#-#-#-

The more we sang the more I wondered whether the hotel held job interviews or auditions when they hired their staff. Santana and Amy could sing, obviously, and I knew that Quinn had a great voice, but Tina, Mercedes and even shy Marley were good too. And Rachel had an obnoxiously big voice for such a small person. She belted out high notes like she belonged on Broadway.  
Me? I was just goofing around. I've always been more of a dancer than a singer. I like to sing, but these girls were in another league.

I was two drinks in and felt a little tingly. Currently, Santana and Marley were doing a very odd version of _One Way Or Another_. Santana was going all in, prancing around the room like she was on stage, and Marley stood still in a corner, singing like an angel but terrified of moving. It reminded me of the movie, Coyote Ugly, but in real life with Marley as Piper Perabo's character. And Santana danced around in pink socks with green polka dots on them, not her usual Dr Marten's.  
All in all, watching Santana was hilarious. And breathtaking. No matter what she wore or what she did, I always found myself looking at her. She was magnetic.  
When the song finished, loud cheers were mixed with Tina and Mercedes arguing over whose turn it was and what song to choose. I decided to step in before things got too heated.

"But you said we should sing together T,"  
"See, totally my turn, 'cause Brittany haven't sung yet" Tina told Mercedes happily.  
"Whatever. You weaklings aren't ready for the diva-tastic experience that I am anyway," Mercedes stated confidently.  
"Oh yes we are," I interjected "we just wanna do a little nineties-thing first, right Tina?"  
Tina just grinned at me.  
"No, please don't," Quinn groaned and fell back on Sam's bunk.  
"How many times do I have to tell you they're under-appreciated, Quinn?" I raised an eyebrow at my supposedly suffering friend.  
"Many. And what the heck is a zig-a-zig aaaah?"  
"I really don't wanna know," I laughed, just in time with the beginning of the song. Tina tossed me one of the microphones and we fell into the familiar dance routine.

Before the song had ended, Marley, Rachel and Amy had joined us on the floor and we passed the mics around like maniacs. (Someone should have invented five-channel Singstar for all the nineties group songs.)

"The irony makes it kind of bearable," Santana giggled from her spot in the corner when we wrapped up the song.  
"What irony?" I winked. "Spice Girls is one hundred precent serious to me. Always."  
She must have had trouble reading the earnest look on my face because she frowned a little, seemingly lost for words.  
"Relax Santana, I'm not kidding but I'm not some crazy Spice Girls stan either. I just like happy songs."  
"Oh, right." She shrugged her shoulders and sat up straight, taking a swig from her plastic cup.

"Girls, although our voices are nothing short of magnificent, what do you say we take a break from the singing and play some games?" Rachel suggested loudly.  
"Don't choke on the big words, tiny person," Santana muttered and rolled her eyes.  
"Fine, but **not** spin the bottle, it's no fun with no guys," Mercedes added.  
"Oh, I know, never have I ever!" Tina chimed in excitedly. Everybody made approving noises except for Santana who groaned and rolled her eyes again.  
Amy kicked her shin lightly and sent her a reproachful glare.  
"Come on, it's dull!" Santana protested. "It's either questions about sex that are supposed to be embarrassing, or silly questions about socks or personal hygiene."  
"It's just a game, party pooper," Tina sulked.  
"Yeah, you don't have to join if you don't want to," Rachel said.  
"But if you don't join you have to leave. No sitting here gloating in other's secrets without participating," Quinn added. I wasn't convinced that she meant it but the cocky look on Santana's face faded away and she accepted with a sigh.

"Sweet, so can I start with the very typical question that always comes up then?" I asked.  
"By all means," Rachel said.  
"Right.." I pretended to think about my question for a few seconds "..I've never had buttsex."  
That earned me a frown from Tina, an elbow in the side from Quinn and a shocked gasp from Rachel.  
"What, it always comes up eventually, why not begin with it?" I chuckled.  
"Yeah, fine, you're right," Rachel admitted reluctantly. Then she let out another shocked sound and looked, wide-eyed, next to me.

"What? Marley, girl, of all the people in this room I thought you were the most innocent," Mercedes almost snorted a second later. Marley looked around the room, bewildered.  
"I tho.. thought so too?" she stuttered.  
"You know you only drink if you have actually done something, right?" Tina asked caringly.  
"Oh. Umm, no.. I thought it was the other way around," Marley mumbled, blushing furiously.  
"Don't worry Marley, there's a first time for everything," I said and nudged her shoulder, trying to put her at ease a little. And I swear I heard a mumbled "Wanky" from over where Santana sat.

"Charming," Quinn said coolly. "Never have I ever hooked up with someone I work with."  
"Define _hook up_," I asked and was met with snicker and a chorus of _ooooh's_.  
"Making out, or sex. Innocent kisses does not count."  
I didn't answer, just took a few gulps from my glass. As did Tina, Amy and Mercedes. No surprises there. Everybody knew about Amy and Rob, and I had caught a flustered Mercedes with Sam a few days earlier. I wasn't sure who Tina had hooked up with though.

"Britt, who did you..?" Tina asked.  
"Who didn't she?" Quinn interjected with a smirk.  
"Why thank you, Lucy. Ehm.. one of the chefs last winter.. Emile? The half-french one. Dark hair, smoked a lot of weed, kinda short?"  
"You did?!"  
"You didn't know?"  
"Apparently not."  
"It was just a one time thing though. But he was sweet," I added for no particular reason. He had been sweet, so..

In the corner of my eye I saw Santana. She was peeling off the label on her beer bottle, looking distraught.  
I had no intention of mentioning what had happened between us, and I don't know if she was worried about it. She just continued fiddling with the torn ettiquette.

"Oh, speaking of," Rachel interrupted. "I sincerely hope I'm not offending you now Brittany but I heard an intriguing rumor about you the other day," she giggled. I frowned, unsure of what I'd done that was interesting enough to be called _intriguing_, but then again – Rachel really liked big words. Maybe because she was so small physically.

"Did you now," Quinn interjected with a voice of steel, glaring at the tiny brunette. Rachel didn't catch the danger in her tone and continued.  
"Well, I heard you had a sapphic romance last winter, and being raised by two dads I'm always excited to meet other members of the LGBT community," Rachel rambled on.

At her words, the cogs in my head started working rapidly, trying to figure out a way to not deny it but not include Santana either. Enough people knew about us already, both after last winter and last week and it didn't have to be the talk of the village, twice. Especially since we were on our way to form some kind of friendship. Amazingly enough no one who didn't know had made the connection between the "hot guest" from last year and Santana storming out of her apartment last week, and I wanted to keep it that way.  
I took a sip of my drink and smiled, surprising myself that I didn't force it.

"It's alright Rachel, it's no big secret, really."  
Rachel looked delighted, then flinched when she noticed the way Quinn still was glaring.  
"So what happened," Mercedes asked.  
I felt myself blushing, thinking back to those few days with Santana before everything got complicated.  
"Well, girl meets girl, sparks fly.." I offered, trying to avoid specific details.

"Aaaaand..?" Rachel pushed.  
"The timing wasn't right, you know." I paused and decided to go out on a limb, just to make sure Santana got to hear my side of the story once more. "I really liked her, I still care for her a lot and under other circumstances I would have fallen for her, but I didn't allow myself to do that fully back then. It would have hurt too much. We parted as friends, and if the timing ever gets better, I'd love to give us a try," I finished, looking straight at Rachel and Mercedes, focusing hard on not gazing over at the subject of my affection.  
"So she was only here for a vacation?" Rachel asked, and when I nodded she sighed like a little girl watching a Disney movie.

I finished the rest of my drink and got up to make another one. There was a weird.. not tension but.. air.. in the room now, and a silence than no one seemed eager to fill. More than half of the people in the room knew the story already, yet everybody acted a bit shell-shocked.  
Maybe I shouldn't have been so honest, maybe I should have laughed it off.  
I put down the half-empty bottle of Sprite when Marley spoke.

"So, um.. are you gay?" She looked apologetic and I smiled to show her that she hadn't overstepped. Poor kid, sometimes she was so fidgety she made Santana seem calm.  
"You could say that," I answered. "But I don't know if that's the right label, or if I fit under any label at all. I like people.. I've fallen for both boys and girls in the past, and I've had sex with both. It's more about who the person is than the gender. Usually I just say that I'm not straight and don't specify too much."  
I wasn't sure if that was a good explanation, but Marley nodded shyly.

"So who are better kissers? Guys or girls?" Amy asked, grinning widely.  
"It depends. If I like the person, the kisses are better by default.. but I have to say girls tend to be better right from the start. I dunno, but some guys are so eager they forget to enjoy it."  
"Praise!" Mercedes added.

Soon thereafter the game continued and if nothing else, Quinn and I had our suspicions confirmed – Rachel and Marley was indeed as goody-two-shoes as we had suspected. Nothing a couple of months here wouldn't change though.  
Santana confessed to having completely lost at strip poker once and my mind went straight to the gutter, so much that I forgot to listen to the next question and just drank. So now everyone thinks I've had a foursome. Shit happens, I guess. Plus all of us was more or less on our way to be shitfaced, and constantly breaking into fits of giggles so it became more and more unclear who had actually done what.

-#-#-#-#-#-

"So, Brittany," Santana spoke, trying to suppress a yawn. The two of them, and Quinn were sitting on the floor, sharing what was left of the beverages and a can of Pringles. Amy and Marley had fallen asleep or passed out, which one exactly was a little unclear, in the sofa-bunk, and the others had left for Peak. Soft indie rock was playing from Quinn's iPod and the mood had gone from girls' night to surprisingly cozy.

"Have you been with a lot of girls?"  
The instant the words left her mouth, Santana regretted speaking – a big part if her didn't want to know. But after Rachel's interrogation earlier, she couldn't stop her curiosity, so instead of looking away she met Brittany's blue gaze, almost challenging.  
Quinn coughed awkwardly but didn't say anything. Brittany looked at Santana, not angry or anything, just watched her, intensely.

"Well, my first real relationship was with a girl, in high school. And then I've slept with two more girls, but that was just casual. Pride week can get a bit rowdy," Brittany added and giggled apologetically.  
"Oh. Okay."  
Santana fell silent, unsure of how to continue. After maybe ten uncomfortable seconds she looked at Quinn who looked back, shocked.

"Me? What? No. I'm straight, definitely. I've kissed a few girls but no. I'm not really that into that."  
"You just have to find the right chick and you'll be joining the rainbow side in seconds, Quinnie the Pooh," Brittany teased. "We have cookies you know. And unicorns. And it's colorful." She smiled brightly and fell onto her back on the carpet, stretching her long body and let out the cutest yawn.

"What about you, Santana?" Brittany asked the ceiling.  
"Um.. no," Santana stammered, and glanced over at the bed where Marley and Amy were snoring lightly. "Only you," she muttered weakly. The room was dimly lit, only a few tea candles and the streetlights outside providing light, and she was thankful, 'cause she was blushing again. There was nothing to do about it.  
A surprisingly comfortable silence fell in the room and Santana just sat there, gazing out the window with Brittany's words from earlier echoing in her head.

"_I really liked her, I still care for her a lot and under other circumstances.."  
_"_..if the timing ever gets better, I'd love to give us a try."_

Timing. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Santana was a fucking coward who chose solitude over something potentially great. She mentally smacked herself on the head and took a deep breath. She could totally do this, put her words together and tell Brittany she didn't wanna be friends.

It should be so easy, just open her mouth and say it, take a chance for once. But when Santana opened her mouth, no words came. She sat there, eyeing the perfect girl sprawled out on the carpet next to her, and Quinn half-asleep leaning against the wall.  
Santana was physically aching to lie down next to Brittany and cuddle, whisper her regrets and apologies, tangle her hands in soft blonde hair. Stay the night, trace unspoken words in the palm of her hand, walk back to her own apartment without shame tomorrow morning after getting a kiss goodbye, hang out later in the day, and the day after, and the day after. She wanted to know Brittany's opinions on everything from the latest records to international politics and whether pandas were sort of useless animals or not.

She wanted everything.  
But nothing happened.

The dream scenarios vanished, and Santana just sat there, committing every detail of Brittany to memory, too overwhelmed to speak. She was getting used to the way Brittany, or just thinking about Brittany, really, could make her useless but it happened at very unfortunate times.  
Like now.

Quinn was half-sleeping, Brittany gazed at the roof, no one else would care or listen to her but Santana only sat there, unable to put together a proper sentence.  
After maybe a minute she gave up and fell back on the floor, cursing inwardly. She was just within touching distance of Brittany – if she only had dared to reach out her hand and grab the blonde's. Before she had mustered enough courage to do so, Quinn stirred and looked at the watch above the door.

"Guys I'm gonna go to bed now," she said. "I'm tired, I don't feel like going out."  
"Me neither," Brittany mumbled and stretched her arms, making a sound that was a mix of a yawn and a whimper.  
"Yeah, me neither," Santana agreed and scrambled to her feet. "I'm gonna get going."

She moved towards the bunkbed to wake Amy.  
"You don't have to wake her," Quinn interrupted. "Let them sleep, no one uses that bed anyway," she said with an affectionate look at Amy and Marley. She then grabbed a woolen blanket from her own bunk and put it over the sleeping girls' before heading into the bathroom.  
Santana nodded and went to put her jacket on when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She braced herself before turning around, not knowing what she would see in Brittany's eyes.  
Kindness. Kindness and a whispered request.

"You can stay here if you want to, too."  
Santana gulped, rendered temporarily mute from the sincerity in Brittany's eyes.  
"I.. umm, I don't want to intrude.." she tried.  
"You wouldn't be intruding," Brittany said, toying with the sleeve of Santana's t-shirt, causing a billion butterflies to gather in Santana's lower stomach. Brittany's expression was so difficult to read. Somewhere deep down Santana felt like there was want, but in that case it was buried deep underneath a thick layer of genuine care. And neither of them were sober. Not shitfaced, but definitely under the influence. That made everything even more confusing.

"I don't think.." Brittany turned silent, perhaps realizing that she was treading close to the ambigious border between friendship and whatever was beyond. "You shouldn't have to walk back home alone in the dark is all," Brittany then mumbled over the buzzing of Quinn's electrical toothbrush.  
Santana couldn't help but choke down a laugh. Her walk home was about 100 meters with streetlights the whole way, both she and Brittany knew that and she reminded the blonde as much. Brittany flushed a little but persisted.  
"But still, you never know who might lurk on the streets at this hour."  
"Brittany, come on, it's only half past one, it's hardly late, and the village is swarming with gendarmes."  
Brittany's smile faltered a little and she looked down, letting go of Santana's upper arm at the same time.  
"I'm sorry, I overstepped," she mumbled and took a small step backwards. The look on her face made Santana feel like someone had ripped a band-aid off a fresh wound without warning.

"No!" she exclaimed a little too loud, and Brittany looked at her again. She gulped and tried to sort out the words in her head while Brittany eyed her expectantly.  
"You didn't overstep, it's just that it's a short walk. I didn't mean to make fun of you Britt."

Something in Brittany's eyes softened then, and Santana's heart fluttered when she realized she'd used her nickname without a second thought. She hadn't called her Britt since, well.. back in february, and it felt good to do it again, even though it maybe was too intimate.

"Maybe you could stay anyway?" Brittany asked. "I mean, just sleeping, just as friends even though you know there's nothing "just" about being friends, I mean.. shit."  
"It's okay Brittany, I get it. And I'll stay. Friends can cuddle, right?" Santana asked with a crooked smile.  
"Mhm," Brittany nodded.

"On two conditions though," Santana continued.  
"Sure."  
"Can I borrow something to sleep in, and a toothbrush? That apple liqour has made my teeth all fuzzy," Santana grimaced.  
"Yeah, no problem. We bought a big pack while getting here. There are extras under the sink. I'll get you a t-shirt too."

Quinn left the bathroom, and Santana slunk in with a large red t-shirt Brittany handed her. She stared at her reflection for a while before undressing, and unsuccessfully tried to ignore the muffled conversation between Quinn and Brittany on the other side of the door.

"..seriously?" Quinn snapped.  
"..sound like an episode of Grey's, Q.."  
"..wise? After your little speech earlier she knows how you feel.."

Brittany turned silent.

"..sorry, but is this really a good idea?"  
"..but it's better than nothing. We're friends, sort of and.." Brittany pleaded.  
"..just keep it in your pants B, don't make a mess like.."

Then Brittany's voice grew louder, and angrier.

"Quinn, you've gotta back off now. This is my business, not yours, and there's a difference between hopeful and stupid, and it's up to me to decide where that line is drawn."  
A mumbled "sorry" and "goodnight" followed, and then silence.

Santana spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, and at the same time tried to decide what to do next. Pretend she hadn't overheard? Go with the flow and decide if Brittany asked her? Tell her she heard most of it?  
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts and Brittany opened the door a little, eyes closed and face scrunched up adorably.  
"Are you decent?" she asked and Santana melted a little.  
"Yeah, no need to keep your eyes shut."  
"Sweet! I'm just gonna brush my teeth, you can pick a side. Not that there's a lot of space.. the bed's kinda narrow but you know that already so.. umm, yeah."  
Santana didn't know what to say so she flashed a smile and walked out to the main room.

-#-#-#-#-#-

She was already lying in my bed when I climbed up, sprawled right in the middle.  
"Come on Santana, pick a side," I giggled and poked her side.  
"Yeaaaaah," she yawned and rubbet her eyes sleepily without opening them. Adorable.  
She seemed to be too sleepy to care so I shoved her a little and crawled down between her and the wall, facing her.

"Santana?"  
"Mmmh?"  
"Would it be alright if we spooned?"  
Silence. She was lying perfectly still. Shit. I had overstepped again. I heard Quinn sighing theatrically from the other bunk and felt really embarrassed.

Then Santana scooted closer, reached for my hand and tucked it around her waist with an appreciative little sound. I breathed in deeply and a few minutes later I fell asleep with the warm scent of Santana's hair filling my nostrils.

* * *

**Like I've said before.. I have no control over this story anymore, and also this chapter felt a bit like a filler. Sorry about that.  
Over all it feels like I've lost a bit of the speed in this story.. I'm working on it though and once it's finished I might edit the whole thing to make it better.**

**Anyway, IF I can keep myself on track, there will be stuff happening in the next chapter. I'm in my last months of school now so I have no idea when I'll have the time to write again (writing is also my job and sometimes my creativity just goes dead) but I promise I will finish this story, even though canon Brittana seems to be over.**

**(And I wrote the Spice Girls part in early january. Just wanted to say that.) And thanks for the lovely reviews.**

**Until next time!**


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